Glass 



Book ^ 





liiZ 



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^ /^-/1-Y-r 



DR. BENJAMIN ElfoyS^KLIN 



WRITTEN BY 




^i^- 



O WHICH IS ADDED 



HIS ESSAYS, 



^ HUMOUROUS, MORAL AND LITERARY, 



CHIEFLY IN THE MANNER OP THE 



SPECTATOR. 



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» * 

• ■» • 



PITTSBURGH : 

PRINTED BY CRAMER, SPEAR, AND EIC«EAUM, 

AND SOLD AT THEIR FRANKLIN HEAD 

fiOOKSTORE, MARKET STREET. 

1813. 



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PREFACE. 

JL HE volume that is here presented to the Public, con- 
sists of two parts : the Life of Dr. Franklin; and a Collec- 
tion of Miscellaneous Essa3^s, the work of that AutLor. 

It is already known to many, that Dr. Franklin amused 
himself, towards the close of his life, with writing" memoirs 
of his own history. These memoirs were brought down to 
the year 1757. Together with some other manuscripts they 
were left behind him at his death, and were considered as 
constituting a part of his posthumous property. It is a lit- 
tle extraordinary that, under these circumstances, interest- 
ins: as thev are, from the celebritv of the character of which 
they treat, and from the critical situation of the present 
times, they should so long have been withheld from the 
Public. A translation of them appeared in France near two 
years ago, coming down to the year 1781, There c^in be 
no sufficient reason, that v/hat has been submitted to the 
perusal of Europe, should not be made accessible to those 
to whom Dr. Franklin's language is native. Tlie first part 
of the history of Jiis life is translated from that public?vUon» 

The style of these memoirs is uncommonly pleasing. The 
story is told with the most unreserved sincerity, and v/iih- 
out any false colouring or ornament. We see, in every page, 
that the author examined his sabject with the eye of a mas- 
ter, and related no incidents, the springs and origin of 
which he did not perfectly understand. It is this that gives 
such exquisite and uncommon perspicuity to the detail and 
delight in the review. The translator has endeavoured, as 
he went along, to conceive the probable manner in which 
Dr. Franklin expressed his idep.s in his English manuscript, 
and he hopes to be forgiven if this enquiry shall occasion- 
ally have subjected him to the charge of a style in any res- 
pect bald or low ; to imitate the admirable simplicity of 
the author, is no easy task. 

The Essays, which are now, for the first time, brought 
together from various resources, will be found to be more- 
miscellaneous than anv of Dr. Franklin's that have former- 
ly been collected, and vrill therefore be more generally 
amusing. Dr. Franklin tells us, in his Life that he was an 
assiduous imitator of Addison ; and from some of these pa- 
pers it will be admitted he was not an unhappy one. The 
public will be amused v/ith following a great philosopher 
in his relaxation, and observe in what respect philosophy 
tends to elucidate and improve the most common subjects. 



4 PREFACE. 

Tlic editor h^vS purposely avoided such papers^ as by their 
scient'ficul nature, were less adapted for g-ereral perusal. 
TJiese he may probably hereafter publish in a volume by 
themselves. 

lie subjoins a letter from the late celebrated and amiable 
Dr. Price, to a gentleman in Philadelphia, upon the subject 
of Dr. Franklin's memoirs of his own life. 

Hackney, June 19, 1790. 
deah sin, 

** I iun liardly able to tell you how kindly 1 take the let- 
ters with wliich you fay:)ur me. Your last contahiing- an ac- 
<!ount of the death of our excellent friend, Dr. Franklin, and 
the circumstances attending it, deserves my particular gra- 
titude. The account which he has left of his life will show, 
in a striking example, how a man hy talents, industr) and 
integrity, may rise from obscurity to the first eminence and 
consequence in the world ; but it brings his history no low- 
er than the year 1757, and I understand that since he sent 
over the copy, wiiich I have read, he has been able to make 
no additions to it. It is with a melanclioly regret I think 
of his death ; but to death we are all bound by the irrever- 
' sible order of nature ; and in looking forward to it, there is 
comfort in being able to reflect — that we have not lived iu 
vain, and that all the useful and virtuous shall meet in a 
belter country beyond the grave. 

'•' Dr. Franklin, in the last letter I received from him af- 
ter mentioning his age and infirmitiesj observes, that it has 
been kindly ordered by the Author of nature, that, as we 
draw nearer the conclusion of life, we are furnished with 
more helps to wean us from it, among which, one of the 
strongest is the loss of dear friends. I was delighted with 
the account yoa gave in your letter of the honour shevvn to 
his memory at Pliiladelphia, and by Congress; and yester- 
day 1 received a liigh additional pleasure, by being inform- 
ed tbat tlie National Assembly of France had determined 
to go in mourning for him. — What a glorious scene is open- 
ed there ! The annals of the world furnish no parallel to it. 
One of the honours of our departed friclid is, that he has 
contributed much to it. 

I am, with great respect, 

Vour obliged and very humble servant. 

lilCHARD PRICE," 



LIFE 

OF 

DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



TiS DEAR SON, 



I 



HAVE amused myself with collecting some little 
anecdotes of my family. You may remember the en- 
quiries I made, when you were with me in England, 
among such of my relations as were then living ; and 
the journey I undertook for that purpose. To be ac-=" 
quainted with the particulars of my parentage and life, 
many of which are unknown to you, I flatter myself, 
will afford the same pleasure to you as to me. I shall 
relate them upon paper : it will be an agreeable em- 
ployment of a week's uninterrupted leisure, which I 
promise myself during my present retirement in the 
country. There are also other m.otives which induce 
me to the undertaking. From the bosom of poverty 
and obscurity, in which I drew my first breath and 
spent my earliest years, I have raised myself to a state 
of opulence and to some degree of celebrity in the 
■world, a constaiit good fortune has attended me through 
every period of life to m.y present advanced age ; ^nd 
my descendants may be desirousof learning what were 
the means of which I made use, and which, thanks to 
the assisting hand of providence, have proved so emi- 
nently successful. They may also, should they ever 
be placed in a similar situation, derive some advantage 
from my narrative. 

A2 



When I reflect, as I Frequently do, upon the felici- 
ty I have enjoyed, I sometimes say to myself, that, 
were the offer made me, I would engage to run again, 
from beginning to end, tl^e same career of life. All 
I would ask should be the privilege of an author, to 
correct, in a second edition, certain errors of the first. 
I could wish, likewise, if it were in my power, to 
change some trivial incidents and events for others 
inore favorable. Were this however denied me, still 
would I not decline the offer. But since a repetition 
of life cannot take place, there is nothing which, in my 
opinion, so nearly resembles it, as to call to mind all 
its circumstances, and to render their remembrance 
more durable, commit them to writing. By thus em- 
ploying myself, I shall yield to the inclination, so na- 
tural in old men, to talk of themselves and their ex- 
ploits, and may freely follow my bent, without being 
tiresome to those, who, from respect to my age, might 
think themselves obliged to listen to me ; as they will 
be at liberty to read me or not, as they please. In 
fine, (and I may well avow it, since nobody would be- 
lieve me were I to deny it,) I shall perhaps, by this 
employment gratify my vanity* Scarcely indeed have 
1 ever heard or read the introductory phrase, " I may 
iiay ^ivithoiit -vanity^''* but some striking and character- 
istic instance of vanity has immediately followed. 
The generality of men hate vanity in others, however 
strongly they may be tinctured with it themselves ; 
for myself, I pay obeisance to it wherever I meet with 
k, persuaded that it is advantageous, as well to the in- 
dividual whom it governs, as to those who are within 
the sphere of its influence. Of consequence, it would, 
in many cases, not be wholly absurd, that a man should 
count his vanity among the other sweets of life, and 
give thanks to providence for the blessing. 

And here let me with all humility acknowledge, 
that to divine providence I am indebted for the felicity 
I have hitherto enjoyed. It is that power alone which 
has furnished me with the means I haye employed 






DR. FliANKLlN. f 

and that lias crowned them with success. My faith 
in this respect leads me to hope, though I cannot count 
upon it, that the divine goodness will still be exercised 
towards me, either by prolonging the duration of my 
happiness, to the close of life, or by giving me forli-^ 
tude to support any melancholy reverse, which may 
happen to me, as to so many others. My future for- 
tune is unknown but to him in whose hand is our des- 
tiny, and who can make our very aiilictions subservi- 
ent to our benefit. 

One of my uncles, desirous, like myself, of collect- 
ing anecdotes of our family, gave me some notes, from 
which I have derived many particulars respecting our 
ancestors. From these I learn, that they had lived in 
the same village (Eaton in Northamptonshire) upon a 
freehold of about thirty acres, for the space at least of 
three hundred years. How long they had resided 
there prior to that period, my uncle had been unable 
to discover; probably ever since the institution of sur- 
names, when they took the appellation of Franklin ; 
which had formerly been the name of a particular or- 
der of individuals.* 

* As a proof that Franklin was anciently the commou 
name of an order or rank in England, see Judge Fortescue, 
De laudibus leg-um Anglix, written about the year 1412, in 
v/hich is the following passage, to shew that good juries 
might easily be formed in any part of England : 

** Regio etiam ilia, itarespersa refertaque est possessoribvs 
ierrarum et agrorum, quod in ea, villula tarn parva reperiri 
non poterit, in qua non est miles, armigeri vel pater-fa mili as, 
qualis ibidem franklin vulgariier nuncupatur, magnis dita- 
tus possessionibus, nee non liberi, tenentes at alii ealecti 
plurimi, suis patrimonils sufficientes, ad faciendum juratum, 
in forma pr?enotata.'* 

" Moreover, the same country is so filled and replenished 
witSi landed menne, that therein so small a thrope cannoi be 
found wherein dwelleth not a knight, an esquire, or such a 
householder as is there commonly called SiJ^ranklin, enrich- 
ed with great possessions ; and also other freeholders and 
many yeomen, able for their livelihoods to make a jury in 
form aforementioned." Old Tramlation, 



8 lAFE OF 

This petty estate, would not have sufficed for their 
subsistence, had they not added the trade of black- 
smith, which was perpetuated in the family down to 
niy uncle's time, the eldest son having been uniform- 
ly brought up to this employment : a custom whicli 
both he and my father observed with respect to their 
eldest sons. 

In the researches I made at Eaton, I found no ac- 
count of their births, marriages and deaths, earlier 
than in the year 1555 ; the parish register not extend- 
ing farther back than that period. This register in- 
formed me, that I was the youngest son of the young- 
est branch of the family, counting five generations. 
My grandfather, Thomas, who was born in 1598, liv- 
ing at Eaton till he was too old to continue his trade, 
when he retired to Brambury in Oxfordshire, where 
his son John, who was a dyer, resided, and with whom 
my father was apprenticed. He died, and was buried 
there : we saw his monument in 1758. His eldest 
son lived in the family house at Eaton, which he be- 
queathed, with the land belonging to it, to his only 
daughter ; who, in cot^ert with her husband, Mr. 
Fisher of Wellingborough, afterwards sold it to Mr. 
Ested, the present proprietor. 

My grandfather had four surviving sons, Thomas, 
John, Benjamin, and Josias. I shall give you such 
particulars of them as my memory will furnish, not 
having my papers here, in which you will find a more 
minute account, if they are not lost during my absence. 



Chaucer too calls his country gentleman a Franklin, and, 
after describing' his good housekeeping", thus characterises 
him: 

This worthy Franklin bore a purse of silk, 
Fix'd to his girdle, white as morning milk. 
Knight of the shire, first justice at the assize. 
To help the poor, the doubtfal to advise. 
In all employments, generous, just he prov'd, 
Benown'd for courtesy, by all belov'd. 



DR. FRANKLIN. d 

Thomas had learned the trade of blacksmith under 
his father ; but possessing a good natural understand- 
ing, he improved it by study, at the solicitation of a 
gentleman of the name of Palmer, who was at that 
time the principal inhabitant of the village, and who 
encouraged in like manner all my uncles to improve 
their minds. Thomas thus rendered himself compe- 
tent to the functions of a country attorney ; soon be- 
came an essential personage in the affairs to the vil- 
lage ; and was one of the chief movers of every public 
cnterprize, as well relative to the county as the town 
cf Northampton. A variety of remarkable incidents 
were told us of him at Eaton. After enjoying the es- 
teem and patronage of Lord Halifax, he died, January 
6, 1702, precisely four years before I was born. The 
recital that was made us of his life and character, by 
some aged persons of the village, struck you, I re- 
member, as extraordinary, from its analogy to what 
you knew of m.yself, " Had he died,*' said you, "just 
four years later, one might have supposed a transmi- 
gration of souls.'* 

John to the best of my beliefj was brought up to th.e 
trade of a wool-dyer. 

Benjamin served his apprenticeship in London to a 
silk-dyer. He was an industrious man ; I remember 
him well ; for, while I was a chikU he joined my father 
at Boston, and lived for some years in the house with 
us. A partic^jpff' affection had always subsisted be- 
tween my father and him, and I was his gocl-son : He 
arrived to a great age. He left ])ehind him two quarto 
volumes of ptyems in manuscript, consisting of little 
fugitive pieces addressed to his friends. He had in- 
vented a short-hand, which he taught me ; but having 
never made use of it, I have now forgotten it. He was 
a man of piety, and a constant attendant on the best 
preachers, whose sermons he took a pleasure in writ- 
ing down according to the expeditory method he had 
devised. Many volumes were thus collected by him. 
He was also extremely fond of politics, too much so^ 




10 LIFE OF 

perhaps for his situation. I lately found in London a 
collection which he had made of all the principal pam- 
phlets relative to public affairs, from the year 1641 to 
1717. Many volumes are wanting, as appears by the 
series of numbers ; but there still remain eight in folio, 
and twenty- four in quarto and octavo. The collection 
had fallen into the hands of a second-hand bookseller, 
who, knowing me by having sold me some books, 
brought it to me. My uncle, it seems, had left it be- 
hind him on his departure for America, about fifty 
years ago. 1 found various notes of his writing in the 
margins. His grandson, Samuel, is now living at 
Boston. 

Our humble family had early embraced the Refor- 
mation. They remained faithfully attached during 
the reign of queen Mary; when they were in danger of 
being molested on account of their zeal against Pope- 
ry. They had an English bible, and to conceal it th& 
more securely, they conceived the projected fastening 
it, open, with pack-threads across the leaves, on the 
inside of the lid of a close-stool. When my great 
grandfather wished to read to his family, he reversed 
the lid of the close-stool upon his knees, and passed 
the leaves from one side to the other, which were held 
down on each by the pack-thread. One of the children 
was stationed at the door to give notice if he saw the 
proctor (an oi!icer of the ^iritual court) make his ap- 
pearance : in that case the lid was restored to its place 
with the bible concealed under it as before, I had this 
anecdote from my uncle Benjamin. 

The whole family preserved its attachment to the 
Church of England till towards the close of the reign 
of Charles II. when certain ministers who had been 
ejected as non-conformists, having held Conventicles 
in Northamptonshire, they were joined by Benjamin 
and Josias, who adhered to them ever after. The 
rest of the family continued in the Episcopal Church. 

My father, Josias, married early in life. He went, 
with his wife and three children, to New-England, 




DR. FRANKLIN. 11 

jfbout the year 1 683. Conventicles being at that lime, 
prohibited bylaw, and frequently disturbed, some con- 
siderable persons of his acquaintance determined to 
go to America, where they hoped to enjoy the free 
exercise of their religion, and my father was prevail- 
ed on to accompany them. 

My father had also, by the same wifo, four children 
born in America, and ten others by a second wife; 
making in all seventeen. I remember to have seen 
thirteen seated together at his table, who all arrived 
to years of maturity, and were married. I was the 
last of the sons, and the youngest child, excepting 
two daughters. I was born at Boston, in New-Eng- 
land. My mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, 
daughter of Peter Folger, one of the first colonists of 
New -England, of whom Cotton Mather makes honor- 
able mention, in his Ecclesiastical History of that pro- 
vince, as ^^a jiiciUR and learned M.nglisman^'' if I right- 
Jy recollect his expressions. I have been told of his 
having written a variety of little pieces ; but there ap- 
pears to be only one in print, which I m.et with many 
years ago. It was published in the year 1675, and is 
in familiar verse, agreeably to the taste of the times 
and the country. The author addresses himself to 
the governors for the time being, speaks for liberty of 
conscience, and in favour of the anabaptists, quakers, 
and other sectaries, who had suffered persecution. — 
To this persecution he attributes the war with the 
natives, and other calamities which affiicted the coun- 
try, regarding them as the judgments of God in pun- 
ishment of so odious an offence ; and he exhorts the 
government to the repeal of laws so contrary to char- 
ity. The poem appeared to be written with a manly 
freedom, and a pleasing simplicity. I recollect the 
six concluding lines, though 1 have forgotten the or- 
der of the words of the two fir^t ; the sense of which 
was, that his censures were dictated by benevolence, 
and that; of consequence, he wished to be known as 



12 LIFE OF 

theaiithor; because, said he, I hate from my very 
soul dissimulation: 

From Sherburne,* where I dwell, 

I therefore put my name. 
Your friend, who means you well. 

Peter Folger. 

My brothers were all put apprentice to different 
trades. With respect to myself, I was sent at the age 
of eight years, to a grammar school. My father des- 
tined me for the church, and already regarded me as 
the chaplain of the family. The promptitude with 
which, from my infancy, I had learned to read, (for I 
do not remember to have been ever without this ac- 
quirement) and the encouragement of his friends^'who 
assured him that I should one day certainly hecorr.p a 
man of letters, confirmed him in this design. My un- 
cle Benjamin approved also of the scheme, and pro- 
mised to give me all his volumes of sermons, written, 
as I have said, in the short-hand of his invention, if I 
would take the pains to learn it. 

I remained, however, scarcely a year at grammar 
school, although, in this short interval, I had risen 
from the middle to the head of my class, from thence 
to the class immediately above, and was to pass, at the 
end of the year, to the one next in order. But my fa- 
ther, bunhened with a numerous family, found that 
he was incapable, without subjecting himself to dif- 
ficulties, of providing for the expense of a collegiate 
education ; and considering besides, as I heard him 
say to his friends, that persons so educated were often 
poorly provided for, he renotmced his first intenti- 
onSj took me from the grammar school, and sent mc 
to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a Mr. 
George Brownwel, who was a skilful master, and suc- 
ceeded very well in his profession, by employing gen- 
tle means only, and such as were calculated to en- 
courage his scholars. Under him I soon acquired aB 

* Town in the Island of Nantucket. 



DR. FRANKLIN. 13 

excellent hand ; but I failed in arithmetic, and mtde 
therein no sort of progress. 

At ten years of age I was called home to assist my fa- 
ther in his occupation, which was that of soap boiler and 
tallow-chandler ; a business to which he had served no 
apprenticeship, but which he embraced on his arrival 
in New-England, because he found his own, that of a 
dyer, in too little request to enable him to maintain his 
family. I was accordingly employed in cutting the 
wicks, filling the rnouldsj taking care of the shop, car- 
rying messages. Sec. 

This business displeased me, and I felt a strong in- 
clination for a sea life ; but my father set his face against 
it. The vicinity of the water, however, gave me fre- 
quent opportunities of verturing myself both upon and 
within it ; and I soon acquired the art of swimming, and 
of managing a boat. When embarked with other chil- 
dren, the helm was commonly deputed to me, parti- 
cularly on difficult occasions ; and, in every other pro- 
jdct, I was almost always the leader of the troop, whom 
I sometimes involved in em.barrassments. I shall eive 
an instance of this, which demonstrates an early dispo- 
sition of mind for public enterprises, though the one 
in question was not conducted by justice. 

The mill-pond was terminated on one side by a marsh, 
upon the borders of v^hich we were accustomed to take 
our stand, at high water, to angle for small fish. By 
dint of walking we had converted the place into a per- 
fect quagmire. My proposal was to erect a Vr harf that 
should aSTord us firm footing ; and I pointed out to my 
companions a large heap of stones, intended for the 
building a new house near the marsh, and which were 
well adapted for our purpose. Accordingly, when the 
workmen retired in the evening, I assembled a num- 
ber of my play fellows, and by laboring diligently, like 
ants, sometimes four of us united our strength to carry 
a single stone, we removed them all, and constructed 
our little quay. The workmen were surprised the 
next morning at not finding their stor«es, which had 

B 



14 LIFE OP 

been conveyed to our wharf. Enquiries were made 
respecting the authors of this conveyance ; we were 
discovered; complaints were exhibited against us; ma- 
ny of us underwent correction on the part of our pa- 
rents ; and thoUgh I strenuously defended the utility 
of the work, my father at length convinced me, that no- 
thing which was not strictly honest, could be useful. 

It will not, perhaps, be uninteresting to you toknovir 
what sort of a man my father was. He had an excel- 
lent constitution, was of a middle size, but well made 
and strong, and extremely active in whatever he un- 
dertook. He designed with a degree of neatness, and 
knew a little of music. His voice was sonorous and 
agreeable ; so that when he sung a psalm or hymn, with 
. ccompaniment of his violin, as was his frequent prac- 
tice in an evening when the labours of the day were linrsh- 
ed, it v/as truly delightful to hear him.-^He was versed 
;a1so in mechanics, and could upon occasion, use the 
tools of a variety of trades. But his greatest excel- 
lence was a sound understanding and solid judgment 
in matters of prudence, both in public and private life. 
In the former indeed, he never engaged, because his 
numerous family and the mediocrity of his fortune kept 
him unremittingly employed in the duties of his pro- 
fession. But I well remember that the leading men of 
the place used frequently to come and ask his advice 
resnecting affairs of the town, or of the church to which 
he belonged, and that they paid much deference to his 
opinion. Individuals were also in the habit of consult- 
ing him in their private affairs, and he was often chosen 
arbiter between contending parties. 

He was fond of having at his table, as often as pos- 
sible, some friends or well informed neighbors, capa- 
ble of rational conversation, and he was always careful 
to introduce useful or ingenious topics of discourse, 
which might tend to form the minds of his children. 
By this means he early attracted our attewtion to what 
was just, prudent, and beneficial in the conduct of life. 
He never talked of the meats which appeared upon the 



DR. FRANKLIN. 15 

table, never discussed whether they were well or ill 
dressed, of good or bad Savour, high seasoned or other- 
wise, preferable or inferior to this or that dish of a si- 
milar kind. Thus accustomed, frona my infancy, to 
the utmost inattention as to these objects, I have ahvays 
been perfectly regardless of what kind of food was be- 
fore me ; and I pay so little attention to it even now, 
that it v/ould be a hard matter for me to recollect, a 
few hours after I had dined, of what my dinner had con- 
gisted. When travelling, I have particularly experien- 
ced the advantage of this habit ; for it has often hap- 
pened to me to be in company with persons, who, having 
a more delicate, because a more exercised taste, have 
suffered in many cases considerable inconvenience ; 
while, as to myself, I have had nothing to desire. 

My mother was likewise possessed of an excellent 
constitution. She suckled all her ten children, and I 
never heard either her or my father complain of any 
other disorder than that of which they died ; my father 
at the age of eighty-seven, and mother at eighty-five. 
They are buried together at Boston, where, a few years 
ago, 1 placed a marble over their grave, with this ip- 
scription : 

Here lie 

" JosiAS Franklin and Abiah his wife : They lived 
" together with reciprocal affection for fifty-nine years; 
" and without private fortune, without lucrative em- 
" ployment, by assiduous labour and honest industry, 
" decently supported a numerous family, and educated 
" with success, thirteen children, and seven grand- 
" children. Let this example, reader, encourage thee 
"diligently to discharge the duties of thy calling, and 
« to rely on the support of divine providence. 

" He w^as pious and prudent, 
" She discreet and virtuous. 

« Their youngest son, from a sentiment of filial duty* 
" consecrates this stone 

" To their memory." 



16 LIFE OP 

I perceive, by my rambling digressions, that I am 
growing old. But we do not dress for a private com- 
pany as for a former ball. Thib deserves perhaps the 
name of nei^ligence. 

To return. I thus continued employed in my father's 
trade for the space of two years ; that is to say, till I 
arrived at twelve years of age. About this time my 
brother John, who had served his apprenticeship in Lon- 
don, having quitted my father, and being married and 
settled in business on his own account at Rhode-Island, 
I was destined, to all appearance, to supply his place, 
and be a candle-maker all my life : but my dislike of 
this occupation continuing, my father was apprehensive 
that, if a more agreeable one were not offered me, I 
might play the truant and escape, to sea; as, to his ex- 
treme mortification, my brother Josias had done. He 
therefore took me sometimes to see m.asons, coopers, 
braziers, joiners, and other mechanics, employed at 
their work ; in order to discover the bent of my incli- 
nation, and fix it if he could upon some occupation that 
might retain ine on shore. I have since, in consequence 
of these visits, derived no small pleasure from seeing 
skilful workmen handle their tools ; and it has proved 
of considerable benefit, to have acquired thereby suf- 
ficient knowledge to be able to make little things for 
myself when I have had no mechanic at hand, and to 
construct small machines for my experiments, while 
the idea I have conceived has been fresh and strongly 
impressed on my imagination. 

My father at length decided that I should be a cutler, 
and I was placed for some days upon trial with my con- 
sul Samuel, son of my uncle Benjamin, who had learn- 
ed this trade in London, and had established himself at 
Boston. But the premium he required for my appren- 
ticeship displeasing my father, I was recalled home. 

From my earliest years I had been passionately fond 
of reading, and I laid out in books all the money I could 
procure. I was particularly pleased with accounts of 
voyages. My first acquisition was Bunyan's collection 



DR. FRANKLIN'. 1? 

in small separate volumes. These I afterwards sold in 
order to buy an historical collection by R. Barton, v/hich 
consisted of small cheap volumes, amounting in all to 
about forty or fifty. My father's little library was prin- 
cipally made up of books of practical and polemical 
theology. I read the greatest part of them. I have 
since often regretted, that at a time when I had so great 
a thirst for knowledge, more eligible books had not fal- 
len into my hands, as it wa« then a point decided that 
I should not be educated for the church. There was 
also among my father's books, Plutarch's Lives, in 
which 1 read continually, and I stiii regard as advan- 
tageously employed the time devoted to them. I found, 
besides, a work of De Foe's, entitled, An Essay on Pro- 
jects, from which, perhaps, I derived im.pressions chat 
have since influenced some of the principal events cf 
my life. 

My inclination for books at last determined my fa- 
ther to make me a printer, though he had already a 
son in that profession. My brother had returned froi^ji 
England in 1717, with a press and types, in order to es~ 
tablish a printing house at Boston. This business plea- 
sed me much better than that of my father, though I 
had still a predilection for the sea. To prevent the ef- 
fects which might result from this inclination, my h- 
ther was impatient to see me engaged with my brother. 
I held bcick for some time ; at length however I suf- 
fered myself to be pursuaded, and signed my inden- 
tures, being then only twelve years of age. It was 
agreed that I should serve as apprentice to the age of 
twenty-one, and should receive journeyman's wages 
only during the last year. 

In a. very short time I made great proficiency in this 
business, and became very serviceable to my brother. 
I had now an opportunity of procuring better books. 
The acquaintance 1 necessarily formed with booksel- 
lers* apprentices, enabled me to borrow a volume now 
and then, which I never failed to return punctually 
and without injury. How often has it happened to me 

B 2 



18 . LIFE OF 

to pass the greater part of the niglit in reading by my 
bed-side, when the book had been lent me in the even- 
ing and was to be returned next morning,least it might 
be missed or wanted. 

At length Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious trades- 
man, who had a handsome collection of books, and who 
frequented our printing-house, took notice of me. He 
invited me to see his library, and had the goodness to 
lend me any books I was desirous of reading. I then 
look a strange fancy for poetry, and composed several 
little pieces. My brother, thinking he might find his 
account in it, encouraged me, and engaged me to write 
two baUads. One, called the Light-house Tragedy, 
containing an account of the shipwreck of captain Wor- 
thilake and his two daughters ; the other was a sailor's 
song on the capture of the noted pirate called Teach^ 
or BLack'bearcL They were wretched verses in point 
of style, mere blind-men's ditties. When printed, he 
despatched me about the town to sell them. The first 
had a prodigious run, because the event was recent, 
and had made a ereat noise. 

My vanity was Mattered by this success ; but my fa- 
ther checked my exultation, by ridiculing my produc- 
tions, and telling me that versifiers were always poor. 
I thus escaped the misfortune of being, probably, a ve- 
ry wretched poet. But as the faculty of writing prose 
has been of great service to me in the course of my 
life, and principally contributed to my advancement, I 
shall relate by what means, situated as I was, I acquir- 
ed the small skill I may possess in that way. 

There was in the town another young man, a great 
lover of books, of the name of John Collins, with whom 
I was intimately connected. We frequently engaged 
in dispute, and were indeed so fond of argumentation, 
that nothing was so agreeable to us as a war of words. 
This contentious temper, I would observe by the bye, 
is in danger of becoming a very bad habit, and frequent- 
ly renders a man's company insupportable, as being 
jao otherwise capable of indulgence than by an indiscri- 



DR. FRANKLIK. 19 

minate contradiction. Independently of the acrimony 
and discord it introduces into conversation, it is often 
productive of dislike, and even hatred, between per- 
sons to whom friendship is indispensably necessary. I 
acquired it by reading, while I lived with my father, 
books of religious controversy. I have since remark- 
ed, that men of, sense seldom fall into this error ; law- 
yers, fellows of universites, and persons of every pro- 
fession educated at Edinburgh excepted. 

Collins and I fell one day into an argument relative 
to the education of women ; namely, whether it were 
proper to instruct them in the sciences, and whether 
they were competent to the study. Collins supported 
the negative, and affirmed that the task was beyond 
their capacity. I maintained the opposite opinion, a 
little perhaps for the pleasure of disputing. He was 
naturally more eloquent than I ; words flowed copi- 
ously from his lips; and frequently I thought myself 
vanquished, more by his volubility than by the force 
of his arguments. We separated without coming to 
an agreement upon this point : and as we were not to 
see each other for some time, I committed my tho'ts 
to paper, made a fair copy, and sent it to him. He an- 
swered, and I replied. Three or four letters had been 
written by each, when my father chanced to light upon 
my papers, and read them. Without entering into the 
merits of the cause, he embraced the opportunity of 
speaking to me upon my manner of writing. He ob- 
served, that though I had the advantage of my adversa-^ 
ry in correct spelling and pointing, which I owed to 
my occupation, I was greatly his inferior in elegance 
of expression, in arrangement and perspicuity. Of 
this he convinced me by several examples. I felt the 
justice of his remarks, became more attentive to lan- 
guage, and resolved to make every effort to improve 
my style. Amidst these resolves an odd volume of 
the Spectator fell into my hands. This was a publica- 
tion 1 had never seen. I bought the volume, and read 
it again and again. I was enchanted with it, thought 



2Q LIFE OF 

the style excellent, and wished it were in my power 
to imitate it. With this view I selected some of the 
papers, made short summaries of the sense of each 
period, and put them for a few days aside. I then with- 
out looking at the book endeavoured to restore the es- 
says to their due form, and to express each thought at 
length, as it was in the original, employing the most 
appropriate words that occurred to my mind. I after- 
wards compared my Spectator with the original ; I 
perceived some faults, which I corrected : but I found 
that I wanted a fund of words, if i may so express my- 
self, and a facility of recollecung and employing thcn>, 
which I thought I should by that time have acquired^ 
had I continued to make verses. The continued need of 
words of the same meanlni^, but of different lengths 
for the measure, or of difFerent sounds for the rhyme, 
would have obliged me to seek for a variety of synony- 
mes, and have rendered me master of them. From 
this belief I took some of the tales of the Spectator, and 
turned them into verse ; and after a time, when I had 
suf!icientiy forgotten them, I iJgaiu converted tiiem*in- 
to prose. 

Sometimes also I mingled all my summaries together; 
and a few v/eeks after, endeavoured to arrange them in 
iht best order, before I attempted to form the periods 
and complete the essays. This I did with a view of 
ac<|airing method in the arrangement of my thoughts. 
On comparing afterwards my performance with the ori- 
ginal, many faults were apparent which I corrected; 
but I had sometim*es the satisfaction to think, that in 
certain particulars of little importance, I had been for- 
tunate enough to improve the order of thought or the 
style ; and this encouraged me to hope that I should 
succeed, in time, in writing decently in the English lan- 
guage, which was one of the greatest objects of my am- 
bition. 

The time which I devoted to these exercises, and to 
reading, was the evenmg after my day's labour was fin- 
ished, the morning before il began, and Sunday when 



DR. FRANKLIN. 21 

I could escape attending divine service. While I liv- 
ed with my father, he had insisted on my punctual at- 
tendance on public worship, and I still indeed consider- 
ed it as a duty, but a duty which I thought I had no time 
to practise. 

When about sixteen years of age, a work of Tryon 
fell into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable 
diet. I determined to observe it. My brother, being 
a bachelor, did not keep house, but boarded with his 
apprentices in a neighbouring family. My refusing to 
eat animal food was found incoiiVenient, and I was often 
scolded for my singularity. I attended to the mode in 
which Tryon prepared some of his dishes, particularly 
how to boil potatoes and rice, and make hasty puddings, 
I then said to my brother, that if he would allow me per 
week half what he paid for my board, I would Under*- 
take to maintain myself. The offer was instantly em- 
braced, and I soon found that of what he gave me I was 
able to save half This was a new fund for the pur- 
chase of books; and other advantages resulted to me 
from the plan. When my brother and his workmen 
left the printing-house to go to dinner, I remained be- 
hind ; and despatching my frugal meal, which frequent- 
ly consisted of a biscuit only, or a slice of bread and a 
bunch of raisins, or a bun from the pastry cook's, with 
a glass of water, I had the rest of the time lill their re- 
turn, for study ; and my progress therein was propor- 
tioned to that clearness of ideas, and quickness of con- 
ception, which are the fruit of temperance in eating 
and drinking. 

It was about this period, that having one day been 
put to the blush for my ignorance in the art of calcula- 
tion, which 1 had twice failed to learn while at school, 
I took Cocker's Treatise of Arithmetic, and went 
through it by myself with the utmost ease. I also read 
a book of navigation by Seller and Sturmy, and made 
myself master of the little geometry it contains, but I 
never proceeded far in this science. Nearly at th« 



22 lilFE OF 

same time I read Locke on the Human Understanding-, 
and the Art of Thinking, by Messrs. du Port Royal. 

While labouring to form and improve my style, I 
met with an English Grammar, which I believe was 
Greenwood, havhig at the end of it two little essays on 
rhetoric and logic. In the latter I found a model of 
disputation after the manner of Socrates. Shortly af- 
ter I procured Xenophon's work, entitled, Memorable 
things of Socrutes, in which are various examples of 
the same method- Charmed to a degree of enthusiasm 
with this mode of disputing, I adopted it, and renounc- 
ing blunt contra'diction, and direct and positive argu- 
ment, I assumed the character of a humble questioner. 
The perusal of Sluiftsbury and Collins had made me a 
sceptic ; and being previously so as to many doctrines 
of Christiiinity, I found Socrates's method to be both 
the safest for myself, as well as the most enibarrassing 
to those against whom 1 employed it. It soon afford- 
ed me singular pleasure ; I incessantly practised it ; 
and became very adroit in obtaining, even from persons 
of superior understanding, concessions of which they 
did not foresee the consequences. Thus I involved 
them in difficulties from which they were unable to 
extricate themselves, and sometimes obtained victories, 
which neither my cause nor my arguments merited. 

This method I continued to employ for some years; 
but I afterwards abandoned it by degrees, retaining on- 
ly the habit of expressing myself with modest diffi- 
dence, and never making use, when I advanced any 
proposition which might be controverted, of the words 
certainly^ undoubtedly^ or any others that might give the 
appearance of being obstinately attached to my opinion. 
I rather said, I imagine, I suppose, or it appears to me, 
that such a thing is so or so, for such and such reasons ; 
or it is so, if I am not mistaken. This habit has, I 
think, been of considerable advantage to me, when I 
have had occasion to impress my opinion on the minds 
of others, and persuade them to the adoption of the 
measures I have suggested. And since the chief ends 



DR. FRANKLIN. 2 



o 



of conversation are to inform or to bQ informed, to 
please or to persuade, I could wish that intelligent and 
well-meaning men would not them.selves diminish the 
powers they possess of being useful, by a positive and 
presumptuous manner of expressing themselves, which 
scarcely ever fails to disgust the hearer, and is only cal- 
culated to excite opposition, and defeat every purpose 
for which the faculty of speech has been bestowed on 
man. In short, if you wish to inform, a positive and 
dogniatical manner of advancing your opinion may pro- 
voke contradiction, and prevent your being heard witlv 
attention. On the other hand, if, with a desire of being 
informed, and of benefiting by the knowledge of others, 
you express yourselves as being strongly attached to 
your own opinions, modest and sensible men, who do 
not love disputation, will leave you in a tranquil pos« 
session of your errors. By following svich a method, 
you can rarely hope to please your auditors, conciliate 
tiieir good will, or work conviction on those whom you 
may be desirous of gaining over to your views. Pope 
judiciously observes. 

Men must be taught as if you taught them not;, 
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot. 

And in the same poem he afterwards advises usj 

To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence. 

He might have added to these lines, one that he has 

coupled elsewhere, in my opinion, with less propriety. 

It is this : 

For want of modesty is want of sense. 

If you ask why I say with less firo/iriefy^ I must give 

you the two lines together : 

Immodest v/ords admit of ?w defence. 
For want of decency is want of sense. 

Now want of sense, when a man has the misfortune to 
be so circumstanced, is it not a kind of excuse for want 
of modesty ? And would not the verses have been more 
accurate, if they had been constructed thus : 

Immodest words admit hut this defence. 

That want of decency is want of sense. 



24 LIFE OF 

But I leave the tlecision of this to better judges than 
myself. 

In 1720, or 1721, my brother began to print a new 
public paper. It was the second that made its appear- 
ance in America, and was entitled the JSTett}- England 
Courant. The only one that existed before was the 
Boston J\i'ews Letter, Some of his friends, I remem- 
ber, would have dissuaded him from this undertaking, 
as a thing that was not likely to succeed ; a single news- 
paper being, in their opinion, sufficient for all America. 
At present, however, in 1777, there are no less than 
twenty-five. But he carried his project into execu- 
tion, and I was employed in distributing the cofiies to 
his customers, after having assisted in composing and 
working them off. 

Among his friends he had a number of literary char- 
racters, who, as an amusement, wrote short essays for 
the paper, which gave it reputation and increased its 
sale. These gentlemen came frequently to our house. 
I heard the conversation that passed, and the accounts 
they gave of the favourable reception of their writings 
with the public. I was tempted to try my hand among 
them ; but, being still a child as it were, I was fearful 
that my brother might be unwilling to print in his pa- 
per any performance of which he should know me to 
be the author. I therefore contrived to disguise xtij 
hand, and having written an anonymous piece, I placed 
it at night under the door of the printing-house, where 
it was found the next morning. My brother commu- 
nicated it to his friends, when they came as usual to see 
him, who read it, commented u}K)n it within my hear- 
ing, and I had the exquisite pleasure to find that it met 
with their approbation, and that, in the various conjec- 
tures they made respecting the author, no one was men- 
tioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the coun- 
try for talents and genius. 1 now supposed myself for- 
tunate in my judges, and began to suspect that they 
were not such excellent writers as I had hitherto sup- 
posed them. Be that as it may,encouraged by this little 



Dii. FRANKLIN. 25 

adventure, I v/rote and sent, to the press, in the same 
way, many other pieces, which were equally approved ; 
keeping the secret till my slender stock of information 
and knowledge for such performances was pretty com- 
pletely exhaubted, when I made myself known. 

My brother, upon this discovery, be^an to entertain 
a little more respect for me ; but he still regarded him- 
self as my master, and treated me like an apprentice. 
He thought himself entitled to the same services from 
me as from any other person. On the contrary, T con- 
c^eived that, in many instances, he was too rigorous^ 
and that, on the part of a brother, I had a right to ex- 
pect greater indulgence. Our disputes were frequent- 
ly brought before my father; and either my brother 
was generally in the wrong, or I was the better pleader 
of the two, for judgment was commonly given in niy 
favour. But my brother was passionate, and often had 
recourse to blows ; a circumstance which I took in yq- 
Ty ill part. This severe and tyrannical treatment con- 
tributed, I believe, to imprint on my mind that aver- 
sion to arbitrary power, which during my whole life I 
have ever preseiwed. My apprenticeship became in- 
supportable to me, and I continually sighed for an op- 
portunity of shortening it, which at length unexpected- 
Iv offered. 

An article inserted in our paper upon some political 
subject which I have now forgotten, gave offence to 
the Assembly. My brother was tciken into custody, 
censured, and ordered into confinement for a month, 
because, as 1 presume, he would not discover the au- 
thor. I was also taken up, and examined before the 
council ; but, though I gave tiiem no satisfaction, they 
contented themselves with reprimanding, and then dis- 
missed me ; considering me probably as bound, in qua- 
lity of apprentice, to keep my master's secrets. 

The imprisonment of my brother kindled my resent- 
ment, notwithstanding our private quarrels. During 
its continuance the management of the paper was en- 
trusted to me, and I was boid enough to insert sonae 

C 



26 LIFE OF 

pasquinades against the governors; which highly pleas- 
ed my brother, while others began to look upon me in 
an unfavourable point of view, considering me as a 
young wit inclined to satire and lampoon. 

My brother's enlargement was accompanied with an 
arbitrary order from the house of assembly, " That 
*» James Franklin should no longer print the newspa- 
*' per entitled the New-England Couranty la this 
conjuncture, we held a consultation of our friends at the 
printing-house, in order to determine what was proper 
to be done. Some proposed to evade the order, by 
changing the title of the paper : but my brother fore- 
seeing inconveniences that would result from this step, 
thought it better that it should in future be printed in 
the name of Benjamin Franklin ; and to avoid the cen- 
sure of the assembly, who might charge him with still 
priming the paper himself under the name of his ap- 
prentice, it vvas resolved that my old indentures should 
be given up to me, with a full and entire discharge 
written on the back, in order to be produced upon an 
emergency : but that, to secure to my brother the be- 
nefit of my service, 1 should sign anew contract, which 
should be kept secret during the remainder of the term. 
Tills was a very shallow arrangement. It was, howe- 
ver, carried into immediate execution, and the paper 
continued, in consequence, to make its appearance for 
some months in my name. At length a new difference 
arising between my brother and me, I ventured to take 
advantage of my liberty, presuming that he would not 
dare to produce the new contract. It was undoubtedly 
dishonourable to avail myself of this circumstance, and 
I reckon this action as one of the first errors of my life ; 
but I was little capable of estimating it at its true value, 
embittered as my mind had been at the recollection of 
the blows I had received. Exclusively of his passion- 
ate treatment of me, my brother was by no means a man 
of an ill temper, and perhaps my manners had too much 
af impertinence not to afford it a very natural pretext^ 



B. FKANKUN. 27 

When he knew tht it was my determination to quit 
him, he wished to irevent my finding employment 
elsewhere. He wer to all the printing-houses in the 
town, and prejudice the masters against me, who ac- 
cording!/ refused toemploy me. The idea then sug- 
gested itself to me c going to New-York, the nearest 
town in which there»vas a printing office. Farther re- 
flection confirmed ne in the design of leaving Boston, 
where I had alreadyrendered myself an object of sus- 
picion to the governng party. It was probable, from 
the arbitrary proceedings of the assembly in the affair 
of my brother, that, by remaining, I should soon have 
been exposed to diflculties, which I had the greater 
reason to apprehend, as, from my indiscreet disputes 
upon the subject of religion, I begun to be regarded, 
by pious souls, w^itH horror, either as an apostate or an 
atheist. I came therefore to a resolution ; but my fa- 
ther, in this instance, siding with my brother, I presum- 
ed that if I attempted to depart openly, measures would 
be taken to prevent me. My friend Collins undertook 
to favour my flight. He agreed for my passage with 
the captain of a New-York sloop, to whom he repre- 
sented me as a young man of his acquaintance, who had 
had an affair with a girl of bad character, whose parents 
wished to compel me to marry her, and that of conse- 
quence I could neither make my appearance or go oi? 
publicly. I sold part of my books to procure a small 
sum of money, and went privately on board the sloop. 
By favour of a good wind I found myself in three days 
at New- York, nearly three hundred miles from my 
home, at the age only of seventeen years, without know- 
ing an individual in the place, and v/ith very little mo- 
ney in my pocket. 

The inclination I had felt for a seafaring life was en- 
tirely subsided, or I should have been able to gratify 
it ; but having another trade, and believing myself to 
be a tolerable workman, I hesitated not to offer my ser- 
vices to the old Mr. William Bradford, who had been 
the first printer in Pennsylvania, but had quitted ilrsii 



28 



LIFE OF 



province ou necount of a quarrel lith George Keith, 
the governor. He could not g-e me employment 
himself, havinf^ little to do, and alrady as mtany person^ 
as he wanted ; but he told me thi his son, printer at 
Philadelphia, had lately lost his Drincipal wori^man, 
Aquila Rose, who was dead, aiKl tht if I would go thith- 
er, he believed that he would en^uge me. Philadel- 
phia was a hundred miles farther. I hesitated not to 
'e^iabark in a boat in order to repai', by the shortest cut 
of the sea, to Amboy, leaving my trunk and effects to 
come after me by the usual and njore tedious convey- 
ance. In crossing the bay we mei with a squall, which 
shattered to pieces our rotten sail , prevented us from 
entering the kill, and threw us upln Long-Island. 

Duiir>g the squall a drunken I>utchman, who like 
myself was a passenger in tl^e boat, fell into the sea. At 
the moment ihat he was jinking I seized him by the 
fore-top, saved him, and drew hin^ on board. This im* 
racrsion sobered him a little, so tjiat he fell asleep, af- 
ter having taken from his \>ocket a volume, which h-e 
requested me to dry. Thi§ volume I found to be my 
old favourite work, Bunyan's Voyages, in Dutch, a 
b'jauiiful impression on fine paper, with copper-plate 
engravings ; a dress in which I had never seen it in its 
original language. I have since learned that it has been 
translated into almost all the languages of Europe, and 
r*ext to the bible, I am persuaded, it is one of the books 
which has had the greatest spread. Honest John is the 
iirst, that I know of, v/ho has mixed narrative and dia- 
logue together ; a mode of writing very engaging to 
the reader, who, in the most interesting passages, finds 
himself admitted as it were into the company, and pre- 
sent at the conversation. De Foe has imitated it with 
success in his Robinson Cruso, his Moll Flanders, and 
other vvorks ; as also has Richardson in his Pamela, &c. 

In approaching the island we found that we had made 
a part of the coast where it was not possible to land, oix 
account of the strong brakers produced by the rocky 
i4iO:e. We cast anchpr and veered the cable towards 



t>n. FRANKLIN. 2^ 

the shore. Some men, who stood upon the brmk, hal- 
looed to us, while we did the same on our part ; but 
the wind was so high, and the waves so noisy, that we 
could neither of us hear each other. There were some 
canoes upon the bank, and we called out to them, and 
made signs to prevail on them to come and take us up ; 
but either they did not understand us, or they deemed 
our request impracticable, and withdrew. Night came 
on, and nothing remained for us but to wait quietly the 
subsiding of the wind ; till when we determined, that 
is, the pilot and I, to sleep if possible. For that pur-^ 
pose we went below the hatches along with the Dutch-' 
man, who was drenched with water. The sea broke 
over the boat, and reached us in our retreat, so that we 
were presently as completely drenched as he. 
- We had very little repose during the whole night ; 
but the wind abating the next day, we succeeded in 
reaching Amboy before it was dark, after having pass- 
ed thirty hours without provisions, and v/ith no other 
drink than a bottle cf bad rum, the water upon v/hich 
we rowed being salt. In the evening I v/ent to bed 
with a very violent fever. I had somewhere read that 
cold water, drank plentifully, was a remedy in such 
Gases. I followed the prescription, v/as in a profuse 
sweat for the greater part of the night, and the fever 
left me. The next day I crossed the river in a ferry^ 
boat, and continued my journey on foot. I had fifty 
miles to walk, in order to reach Burlington, where I 
was told I should find passage boats that would convey 
me to Philadelphia. It rained hard the whole day, so 
that I was wet to the skin. Finding myself fatigued 
about noon,! stopped at a paltry inn, where I passed the 
rest of the day and the whole night, beginning to rc- 
" gret that I had quitted my home. I made besides so 
wretched a figure, that I was suspected to be some 
runaway servant. This I discovered by the questions 
that were asked me ; and I felt that I was every mo- 
ment in danger o£ being taken up as such. The next 
day however, I continued my journey, aud i\rrivcd ia 

C 2 






vQ LIFE OP 

;he evening, at an inn eight or ten miles from Burling 
ton, that was kept by one Dr. Br©wn. 

Tiiis man entered into conversation with me while 
1 took some refreshment, and perceiving I had read a 
little, he expressed towards me considerable interest 
and friendship. Our acquaintance contiimed during 
the remaiiider of his life. 1 believe him to have beeiv 
what is called an itinerant doctor ; for there was no 
town in England, or indeed in Europe, of w:hich he 
could not give a particular account. He v/as neither 
deficient in understanding nor literature, but be was a 
sad infidel ; and, some years after, undertook to tra- 
vesty the Bible in burlesque verse, as Cotton has tra- 
vestied Virgil. He exhibited, by this means, many 
facts in a very ludicrous point of view, which would 
liave given umbrage to weak minds> had his work been 
published, which it nevej^ was. 

I spent the night at his house, and reached Burling- 
ton the next morning. On my arrival, I had the n:ior- 
tiftcation to learn tiiat the ordinary passage-boats had 
sailed a little before. This was on a Saturday, and 
There would be no other boat till the Tuesday following. 
X returned to the house of an old woman in the town 
who had sold me some gingerbread to eat on the pas- 
sage, and I asked her advice. She invited me to take 
?jp my abode with her till an opportunity offered for 
me to embark. Fatigued with having travelled so faF 
on foot, I accepted the invitation. When she under- 
stood tliat I was a Printer, she would have persuaded 
me to stay stt Burlington, and set up my trade ; but she 
was little aware of the capital that would be necessary 
for such a purpose I 1 was treated while at her house 
with true hospitality. She gave me, w^ith the utmost ^ 
good-will, a dinner of beef-steaks, and would accept o^^ 
nothing in return but a pint of ale. 1^ 

Here I imagined myself to be fixed till the Tuesday 
in ihe ensuing week, but walking out in the evening 
by the river side, 1 saw a boat with a number of per- 
sons in it approack It wsis going to Philadelphia, and 



DR. FRANKLIN. 31 

the company took me in. As there \va3 no wind, we 
could only make way with our oars. About midnight, 
not peixeivhig the town, some of the company were of 
opinion that we must have passed it, and were unwil- 
ling 10 row" any fartlier : the rest not knowing where 
we were it was resolved that we should stop. We 
drew towards the shore, entered a creek, and landed 
near some old palisades, which served us for fire-wood, 
it bemg a cold nighi in October. Here we stayed till 
day, when one of the company found the place hi which 
we were to be Cooper's Creek, a httie above Phila- 
delphia ; which in reality we perceived the moment we 
were out of the creek. We arrived on Sunday about 
eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and landed on 
Market-street wharf, 

I have entered into the particulars of my voyage, a!;id 
shall in like ir^anner describe my first enterance into 
this city, that you may be able to com.pare beginnings 
so little auspicious, with the figure I have since made. 

On my arrival at Philadelphia I was in my woi'king 
dress, my best clothes being to come by sea. I was 
covered with dirt; my pockets were filled with shirts 
and stockings ; I was unacquainted with a single soul 
in the place, and knew not where to seek for a le^dging. 
Fatigued with walking, rowing, and having passed the 
night without sleep, I was extremely hungry, and all 
my money consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shil- 
lings worth of coppers which I ii^ave to the boatmen for 
my passage. As I had assisted them in rowing, they 
refused it at first ; but I insisted on their taking it.~ 
A man is sometimes more generous when he has Uu 
tie, than when he has much money ; probably because, 
in the first case, he is desirous of concealing his po- 
verty. 

I walked towards the top of the street, looking ea» 
gerly on both sides, till I came to Market- street, where, 
I met a child v/ith si loaf of bread. Often had I made 
my dinner on dry bread. I enquired where he had 
bouglu it, and went straight to the baker's shop whkb 



32 LIFE OF 

he pointed out to me. I asked for some biscuits, ex- 
pecting to find such as we had in Boston; but they 
made it seems none of that sort at Philadelphia. I 
then asked for a three-penny, loaf. They made no 
loaves of that price. Finding myself ignorant of the 
prices, as well as of the different kinds of bread, I de- 
sired him to let me have three penny-worth of bread 
of some kind or other. He gave me three large rolls. 
I was surprised at receiving so much : I took them? 
however, and having no room in my pockets, I walked 
on with a roll under each arm, eatmg the third. In 
this manner 1 went through Market- street to Fourth - 
street, and passed the house of Mr. Read, the father of 
my future wife. She was standing at the door, observ- 
ed 'me, and thought, with reason, that I made a very 
singular and grotesque appearance. 

I then turned the corner ; and went through Ches- 
nut-street, eating my roll all the way ; and having made 
this round, I found myself again on Market-street 
wharf, near the boat in which I had arrived, I stepped 
into it to take a draught of the river water ; and find- 
ing myself satisfied with my first roll, I gave the other 
two to a woman and her child, who had come down the 
river with us in the boat, and was waiting to continue 
her journey. Thus refreshed, I regained the street, 
which was now full of well dressed people, all going 
the same way. I joined them, and was thus led to a 
large Quaker's meeting house hear the market-place. 
I sat down with the rest, and after looking round 
sne for some time, hearing nothing said, and being 
drowsy from my last night's want of rest, 1 fell into 
a sound sleep. In this state I continued till the as- 
sembly dispersed, when one of the congregation had - 
the goodness to awake me. This was consequently -5 
the first house I eijtered, or in which I slept in Phila- 
delphia. 

I began again to walk along the street by the river 
tide ; and looking attentively in the face of every one 
i met,* I at length perceived a young quaker, whose^ 



DR. FRANKJLIN. S2 

cotmtenance pleased me. I accosted hiin,.and begged 
him to iiiform me wh&re a stranger might find a lodg- 
ing. We were then near the sign of the Three Mar- 
iners. They receive travellers here, said he, but it is 
not a hou^^e that bears a good character ; if you will go 
with rne i will shew you a better one. He conducted 
me to the Crooked Billet in Water-street. There I 
ordered something for dinner, and during my meal a 
liumber of curious questions were put to me; my youth 
and appearance excited the suspicion of my being a 
runaway. After dinner my drowsmess returned, and 
1 threw myself upon a bed without taking off my 
clothes, and slept to six o'clock in the evening, when 
I was called to supper. I afterwards went to bed at a 
very early hour, and did not wake till the ne:-^t morn- 
ing- 

As soon as I got up I put myself in as decent a trim 

as I could, and v/ent tcthe house of Mr. Andrew Brad- 
ford the printer. I found his father in the shop, whora 
I had seen at New- York. Having travelled on horse- 
back, he had arrived at Philadelphia before me. He 
introduced ine to his son, who received me with civiii»- 
ty, and gave me breakfast ; but told me he had no oc* 
casion at present for a journeyman, having lately pror 
cured one. He added, that there was another printer 
newly settled in the town, of the name of Keimer, who 
might perhaps employ me ; and that in case of a refu- 
sah I should be welcome to lo<:lge at Lis house, and he 
would give me a little work now and then, till some- 
thing better should offer. 

The old man otTered to introduce me to the new 
pi inter. When we were at his house : " Neighbor,'* 
said he, " I bring you a young man in the printing bu- 
siness ; perhaps you may have need of his services.'* 

Keimer asked me some questions, put a composing 
stick in my hand to see how I could work, and then 
said, that at present he had nothing for me to do, but 
that he should soon be able to employ me. At the 
same time taking old Bradford for an inhabitaat of the 



34 LIFE OF 

town well-disposed towards him, he commnnicated his 
project to him, and the prospect he had of success. — 
Bradford was careful not to discover that he was the 
father of the other printer : and from what Keimer, had 
said, that he hoped shortly to be in possession of the 
greater part of the business of the town, led him by art- 
ful questions, and by starting some difficulties, to dis- 
close all his views, what his hopes were founded upon, 
and how he intended to proceed. I was present and 
heard it all. I instantly st-w that one of the two was 
a cunning old fox, and the other a perfect novice.-— 
Bradford left m.e with Keimer, who was strangely sur- 
prised when 1 informed him who the old man was. 

I found Keimer's printing materials to consist of an 
old damaged press, and a small fount of v/ern-out Eng- 
lish letters, with which he was himself at work upon 
an elegy on Aquila Rose, whom I have mentioned above, 
an ingenious young man, and of an excellent character, 
highly esteemed in the town, secretary of the assembly, 
and a very tolerable poet. Keimer also made verses, 
but they were indifferent ones. He could not be s^id 
to write in verse, for his method was to set the lines as 
they flowed from his muse ; and as he worked without 
copy, had but one set of letter-cases, and the elegy 
would probably occupy all his types, it was impossible 
for any one to assist him. I endeavored to put his press 
in order, which he had not yet used, and of which in- 
deed he undersiood nothing : and having promised to 
come and work off his elegy as soon as it should be rea- 
dy, I returned to the house of Fi radford, who gave me 
some trifle to do for the presciit, for which I had my 
board ajtd lodging. 

In a few days Keimer sent for me to print off his el- 
egy. He had now procured another set of letter-cases, 
and had a phamphiet lo re-prini, upon which he set me 
to work. 

The two Philadelpliia printers appeared destitute of 
every quaiificdtioii necessary in their profession. Brad- 
ford had not been brought up to it, and was very iiliter- 



DB. FRANKLIN. 35 

ate. Keimer, though he understood a liute of the bu- 
siness, was merely a compositor, and wholly incapable 
of working at the press. He had been one of the 
French prophets, and knew how to imitate their super- 
natural agitations. At the time of our first acquaintance 
he professed no particular religion, but a little of all 
upon occasion. He was totally ignorant of the world, 
and a great knave at heart, as I had afterwards an op- 
portunity of experiencing. 

Keimer couid not endure that, working with him, I 
should lodge at Bradford's. He had indeed a house 
but it was unfurnished ; so that he could not take me 
in. He procured me a lodging at Mr. Heed's his land- 
lord, whom 1 have already mentioned. My trunk and 
effects being now arrived, I thought of making, in the 
eyes of Miss Read, a more respectable appearance than 
when chance exhibited me to her view, eating my roll, 
and wandering in the streets. 

From this period I began to contract acquaintance 
with such young peopleof the town as were fond of read- 
ing, and spent my evenings with them agreeably, while 
at the same time I gained money by my industry, and, 
thanks to my frugality, lived contented. I thus forgot 
Boston as much as possible, and wisiied every one to 
be ignorant of the place of my residence, except my 
fi'iend Collins, to whom I wrote, and who kept my se- 
cret 

An incident, however arrived, which sent m.e home 
sooner than I had proposed. I had a brother-in-law, 
of the name of Robert Holmes, master of a trading 
sloop from Boston to Delaware. Being at Newcastle, 
forty miles below Philadelphia, he heard of me, and 
wrote to inform me of the chagrin which my sudden 
departure from Boston had occasioned my parents, and 
of the aff'jcdon which tiicy still entertained for me, as- 
suring me that, if I would return, every thing should 
be adjusted to my satisfaction ; and he was very press- 
ing in his entreaties. I answered his letter, thanked 
bim for his advice, and explained the reasons which 



li. 



Sd LIFE OF 

had induced rne to quit Boston with such force aftd 
clearness, that he was convinced I had been less to 
blame than he had imagined. 

Sir William Keith, governor of the province was at 
Newcastle at the time. Captain Holmes, beinj^ by- 
chance in his company when he received my letter, took 
occasion to speak of me, and shewed it him. The go- 
vernor read it, and appeared surprised when he learn- 
ed my age. He thought me, he said, a young man of 
very promising talents, and that, of consequence, I 
ought to be encouraged ; and there were at Philadel- 
phia none but very ignorant printers, and that if I were 
to set up for myself, he hud no doubt of my success; 
that, for his own part, he would })rocure me all the 
public business, and would render me every other ser- 
vice in his power. My brother-in-law related all thi& 
to me afterwards at Boston ; but I knew nothing of it 
at the time ; when one d;^y Keimer and I being at work 
toQ:ethcr near the window, we saw the Q-overnor and 
another gentleman, colonel French of Newcastle, hand- 
somely dressed, cross the street, and make directly for 
our h.ouse. We heard them at the door, and Keimer, 
believing it to be a visit to himself, went immediately 
down : but the governor enquired for me, came up 
stairs, and, with a condescension and politeness to which 
I had not at all been accustomed, paid me many com- 
pliments, desired to be acquiiinted with me, obligingly 
reproached me for not having made myself known to 
him on my arrival in the town, and wished me to ac- 
company him to a tavern, where he and colonel French 
were going to taste some excellent Madeira wine. 

I was, I confess, somewhat surprised, and Keimer 
appeared thunderstruck. I v/ent, however, with the 
governor and the colonel to a tavern at the corner of 
Third-street, where, while we were drinking the Ma- 
deira, he proposed to me to establish a printing house. 
He set forth the probabilities of success, and himself . 
and colonel French assured me that I should have their 
protection and influence in obtaining the printing of 



DR. FRANKLIN. 3^ 

the public papers of both governments ; and as I ap- 
peared to doubt whether my father would assist me in 
this enterprise, Sir William said he would give me a 
letter to him, in which he would represent the advan- 
tages of the scheme, in a light which he had no doubt 
would determine him. It was thus concluded that I 
should return to Boston by the first vessel, with the let- 
ter of recommendation from the governor to my father. 
Meanwhile, the project was to be kept secret, and I 
continued to work for Keimer as before. 

The governor sent every now and then to invite me 
to dine with him. I considered this as a very great 
honour, and I was the more sensible of it, as he con- 
versed v/ith me in the most affable, familiar and friend- 
ly manner imaginable. 

Towards the end of April, 1 724, a small vessel was 
ready to sail for Boston. I took leave of Keimer up- 
on the pretext of going to see my parents. The gover- 
nor gave me a long letter, in which he said many flat- 
tering things to my father; and strongly recommend- 
ed the project of my settling at Philadelphia, as a thing 
which could not fail to make my fortune. 

Going down the bay we struck on a Hat, and sprung 
a leak. The weather was very tempestuous, and we 
v/ere obliged to pump without intermission ; I took my 
turn. We arrived, however, safe and sound at Boston, 
after about a fortnight's passage. 

I had been absent seven complete months, and my 
relations, during that interval, had received no intelli- 
gence of me ; for my brother-in-law, Hx>lmes, was not 
yet returned, and had not written about me. My un- 
e;ipected appearance surprised the family ; but they 
were all delighted at seeing me again, and except by 
brother, welcomed me home. I went to him at the 
printing office. I was better dressed than I had ever 
been while in his service : I had a complete suit of 
clothes, new and neat, a watch in my pocket, and my 
purse was furnished with nearly five pounds sterling 

1) 



3S LIFE OF 

money. He gave me no very civil reception ; and 
having eyed me from head to foot, resumed his work. 

The workmen asked me with eagerness where I had 
been, what sort of a country it was, and how I liked it. 
I spoke in the highest terms of Philadelphia, the happy 
life we led there, and expressed my intention of going 
back again. One of them asked what sort of money 
we had, I displayed before them a handful of silver, 
which I drew from my pocket. This was a curiosity 
to which they were not accustomed, paper being the 
current money at Boston. I failed not after this to let 
them see my watch ; and at last, my brother continu- 
ing sullen and out of humour, I gave them a shilling 
to drink, and took my leave. This visit stung my bro- 
ther to the soul ; ibr when, shortly after, my mother 
spoke to him of a reconciliation, and a desire to see us 
on eood terms, he told her that I had so insulted him 
before his men, that he v/ould never forget or forgive 
it: in this however he was mistaken. 

The governor's letter appeared to excite in my fa- 
ther some surprise ; but he said little. After some 
days, capt. Holmes being returned, he shewed it him, 
asking hira if he knew Keith, and what sort of a man 
he v/as : adding, that in his opinion, it proved very lit- 
tle discernment to think of setting up a boy in busi- 
ess, who for three years to come would not be of an 
ge to be ranked in the class of men. Holmes said 
every thing he could in favour of the scheme ; but my 
father firmly maintained its absurdity, and at last, gave 
a positive refusal. He wrote however, a civil letter 
to Sir William, thanking him for the protection he had 
so obligingly offered me, but refusing to assist me for 
the present, because he thought me too young to be 
entrusted with the conduct of so important an enter- 
prise, and which would require so considerable a sum 
of money. 

My old comrade Collins, who was a clerk in the post- 
office, charmed with the account I gave of my new re- 
sidence, expressed a desire of going thither ; and while 






^^O 



DR. FRANKLIK. 39 

I waited my father's determination, he set off before 
me, by land, for Rhode-Island, leaving his books which 
formed a handsome collection in mathematics and na- 
tural philosophy, to be conveyed with mine to New- 
York, where he proposed to wait for me. 

My father, though he could not approve Sir Wil- 
liams proposal, was yet pleased that I had obtained so 
advantageous a recommendation as that of a person of 
his rank, and that my industry and ceconomy had ena- 
bled me to equip myself so handsomely in so short a 
period. Seeing no appearance of accommodating 
matters between my brother and me, he consented to 
my return to Philadelphia, advised me to be civil to 
every body, to endeavour to obtain general esteem, 
avoid satire and sarcasm, to which he thought 1 was 
too much inclined ; adding, that with perseverance and 
prudent oeconomy, I might, by the time I became of 
age, save enough to establish myself in business ; and 
that if a small sum should then be wanting he would 
undertake to supply it. 

This was all I could obtain from him, except some tri- 
fling presents, in token of friendship from him and my 
mother. I embarked once more for New- York, fur- 
nished at this time with their approbation and blessing. 
The sloop having touched at Newport in Rhode Island, 
I paid a visit to my brother John, who had for some 
years been settled there, and was married. He had al- 
ways been attached to me, and received me with great 
affection. One of his friends, whose name wa-s Vernon, 
having a debt of about thirty-six pounds due to him in 
Pennsylvania, begged me to receive it for him, and 
keep the money till 1 siiould hear from him : accor- 
dingly he gave me an order for that purpose.— -This af- 
fair occasioned me, in the sequel, much uneasiness. 

At Newport we took on board a number of pabsen- 
gers ; am^;ng whom were two young women, and a 
grave and sensible quaker lady with her servants. I 
had shewn an obliging forwardness in rendering the 
quaker some trifling services, which led her, probablyj 



40 LIFE OF 

to feel an interest in my welfare ; for when she saw a 
familiarity take place, and every day increase, between 
the tvro young women and me, she took me aside and 
said, " Young man I am in pain for thee. Thou hast 
no parent to watch over thy conduct, and thou seemest 
to be ignorant of the world, and the snares to which 
youth is exposed. Rely upon what I tell thee ; those 
are women of bad characters ; I perceive it in all their 
;iCtions. If thou dost not take care, they will lead thee 
into danger. They are strangers to thee, and I advise 
thee, by the friendly interest 1 take in thy preservation, 
to form no connection with them." As I appeared at 
first not to think quite so ill of them as she did, she 
related many things she had seen and heard, whichiiad 
escaped my attention, but which convinced me she w^as 
in the right- 1 thanked her for her obliging ^vice^ 
and promised to follow it. 

When we arrived at Nev/-York, they informed me 
where they lodged, and invited me to come and see 
them. I did not however go, and it was well I did not $ 
for the next day, the Captain missing a silver spoon, 
and some other things which had been taken from the 
cabin and knowing these women to be prostitutes, pro- 
cured a search warrant, found the stolen goods upon 
them, and'had them punished. And thus, after having 
been saved irom one rock concealed under water, up- 
on which the vessel struck during our passage, I es- 
caped another of a more dangerous nature. 

Al New-York I found my friend Collins, who had 
arrived some time before. We had been intimate 
from our infancy, and had read the same books togeth- 
er; but he had the advantage of being able to devote 
more time to reading and study, and an astonishing 
disposition for mathematics, in which he left me far be- 
hind him. When at Boston, 1 had been accustomed 
to pass with him almost all my leisure hours. He was 
then a sober and industrious lad ; his knowledge ha^!. 
gained him a very general esteem, and he seemed ii> 
promise to «iake an advantageous figure in society,-^ 



BR. FRAKKLIN. 41 

But during my absence he had unfortunately acldicted 
himself to brandy, and I learned, as well from himself, 
as from the report of others, that every day since his 
arrival at New-York he had been intoxicated, and had 
acted in a very extravagant manner. He had also play- 
ed and lost all his money ; so that I was obliged to pay 
his expences at the inn, and to maintain him during the 
rest of the journey; a burthen that was very inconve= 
nient to me. 

The governor of New-York, v,^hGse name was Bur- 
net, hearing the Captain say that a young man who was a 
passenger in his ship had a great number of books, beg- 
ged him to bring raic to his house. 1 accordingly wentj 
and should have taken Collins with me had he been so- 
ber. The governor treated me with great civility? 
shewed me his library, which v/as a very considerable 
one, and w^e talked for some time upon books and cm- 
ihors. This v/as the second governor who had hon- 
ored we with his attention ; and to a poor boy, as I ther 
was these little adventures did not fail to be pleasing. 

We arrived at Philadelphia. On the way I received 
Vernon's money, without which we should have beei^ 
unable to have finished our journey. 

Collins wished to get employment as a merchants' 
clerk ; but either his breath or his countenance betray- 
ed his bad habit; for, though he had recommendationsj 
he met with no success, and continued to lod^ce and eat 
with me, and at my expence. Knowing that 1 had Ver- 
non's money, he was continually askhig me to leiid 
him some of it ; promising to repay me as soon as he 
should get employment. At last he had drawn so much 
of this money, that»»I was extremely alarmed at what 
might become of me should he fail to make good the. 
deficiency. His habit of drinking did not at all dimi- 
nish, and was a frequent source of discord between us;, 
for when he had drank a little too much, he was very 
headstrong. 

Being one day in a boat together, on the Delaware, 
with some other young persons, he refused to take hv,: 

D 2 



42 LIFE OF 

turn in rowing. You shall row for me, said he, till we 
^et home. No, I replied, we will not row for you-— 
You shall, said he, or remain upon the water all nights 
As you please. Let us row, said the rest of the com- 
pany ; v/hat signifies whether he assists or not. But^ 
already angry with liim for his conduct in other re- 
spects, 1 persisted in my refusal. He then swoi'e that 
he would make me row, or would throw me out of the 
boat; and he made up to me. As soon as he was with- 
in my reach I look him by the collar, gave bim a vio- 
lent thrust, and threw him head foremost into the river* 
I knew that he was a good swimmer, and was therefore 
\inder no apprehensions for his life. Before he could 
turn himself, we were able, by a few strokes of our 
oars, to, place ourselves out of his reach ; and whenever 
he touched the boat, we asked him if he would row, 
striking his hands with the oars to make him let go his 
hold. He was ne-nly suffocated with rage, but obsti- 
jiately refused making any promise to row. Perceiving 
at length that his strength began to be exhausted, we 
took him into the boat, and conveyed him home in the 
evening, conipleteiy drenched. The utmost coldness 
subsisted between us after this adventure. At last the 
taiKain of West-India ship, who was commissioned 
to procure a tutor for the children of a gentlenaan at 
Barbadoes, meeting with Collins, offered him the place» 
He accepted it, and took his leave of me, promising ta 
discharge the debt he owed me, with the first money he 
sliouid receive; but I have heard nothing of him sincco 
The violation of the trust reposed in me by Vernon, 
was one of the first great errors of my life ; and it 
proves that my father was not mistaken when he sup- 
posed me too young to be enti'usted with the manage- 
ment of important affairs. But Sir William, upon 
reading his letter, thought him too prudent. There 
%-vas a difference, he said, between individuals : years of 
jTiaturity were not always accompanied with discretion^ 
neither was youth in every instance devoid of it. Since 
your father, added he, will not set you up in business^ 



DR, FRANKLIN 43 

1 will do it myself. Make out a list of what will be 
wanted from England, and I will send for the articles. 
You shall repay me when you can. I am determined 
to have a good printer here, and I am sure you will 
succeed. This was said with so much seeming cor- 
diality, that I suspected not for an instant the sincerity 
of the offer. I had hitherto kept the project, with which 
Sir William had inspired me, of settling in business a 
secret at Philadelphia, and I still continued to do so> 
Had my reliance on the governor been known, some 
friend, better acquainted with his character than my- 
self, would doubtless have advised me not to trust him ; 
for I afterwards learned that he was universally known 
to be liberal of promises, which he had no intention ^o 
perform. But having never solicited him, how could 
I suppose his offers to be deceitful? On the contrary, 
I believed him to be the best man in the world. 

I gave him an inventory of a small printing office^ 
the expence of which i had calculated at about a hun- 
dred pounds sterling. He expressed his approbation, 
but asked if my presence in England, that I might 
choose the characters myself, and see that every article 
was good in its kind, would not be an advantage. You 
w^ill 5ilso be able, said he, to form some acquaintance 
there, and establish a correspondence with stationers 
and booksellers. This I acknowledged was desirable* 
That being the case, added he, hold yourself in readi- 
ness to go with the Annis. This was the annual vessel^ 
and the only one, at that time, which made regular voy- 
ages between the ports of London and Philadelphia.— 
But the Annis was not to sail for some months. I 
therefore continued to work with Keimer, unhappy 
respecting the sum which Colllins had drawn from me^ 
and almost in continual agony at the thoughts of Ver- 
non, who fortunately made no demand of his money till 
several years after. 

In the account of my first voyage from Boston to 
Philadelphia, I omitted 1 believe a trifling circumstance, 
wliich will not perhs^ps be out of place here. Durix^ 



44 LIFE OF 

a calm which stopped us above Block-Island, the cre^y 
employed themselves in fishing for cod, of which they 
caught a great number. 1 had hitherto adhered to my 
resolution of not eating any thing that had possessed 
life ; and I considered on this occasion, agreeably to 
the mttxims of my master, Tryon, the capture of every 
fish as a sort of murder, committed without provoca- 
tion, since these animals had neither done, nor were 
capable of doing, the smallcbt injury to any one that 
should justify the measure. This mode of reasoning I 
conceived to be unanswerable. Meanwhile I had for- 
merly been extremely fond of fish ; and w hen one of 
these cod was taken out of the frying-pan, I thought its 
flavor delicious. I hesitated sometime between prin- 
ciple and inclination, till at lust recollecting, that when 
the cod had been opened, some small fish were found 
in its belly, I said to myself, if you eat one another, I 
see no reason why we may not eat you. I according- 
ly dined on the cod with no small degree of pleasure.^ 
and have since continued to eat like the rest of man- 
kind, returning only OGcas)oT»!y to my vegetable plan. 
How convenient does it prove to be a rational anvnal^ 
that knows how to find or invent a plausible pretext for 
whatever it has an inclination to do ! 

I continued to live upon good terms with Keimer, 
who had not the smallest suspicion of my projected es- 
tablishment. He stiil retained a portion of his former 
enthusiasm ; and being fond of argument, we frequent- 
ly disputed together. I was so much in the habit of 
using my Sorratic method, and had so frequently puz- 
zled \'\n\ by my questions, v.'hich appeared at first very 
distant from the point in debate, yet nevertheless led 
to It by degrees^ involving him in difficulties and con- 
tradictions from which he was unable to extricate him- 
self, tli.t \\c became at last ridiculously cautious, and 
would scarcely answer the most plain and familiar que s- 
tioij withoiU previously abkinr me — What would you 
infer froui thc*.t ? Hence he fOiTiied so high an opinion 
of n^y talents for refutation, that he seriously proposed 



BR. FRANKLIN. 45 

to me to become his colleague in the establishment of 
a new religious sect. He was to propogate the doc- 
trine by preaching, and I to refute every opponent. 

When he explained to me his tenets, I found many 
absurdities which I refused to admit, unless he would 
agree in turn to adopt some of my opinions. Keimer 
wore his beard long, because Moses had somewhere 
said 7 hou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard. He 
likewise observed the Sabbath, and these were with 
him two very essential points. I disliked them both ; 
but I consented to adopt them, provided he would ab- 
stain from animal food. I doubt, said he, whether my 
constitution will be able to support it. I assured him 
on the contrary, that he would find himself the better 
for it. He was naturally a glutton, and I wished to 
amuse myself by starving him. Ke consented to make 
trial of this regimen, if I would bear him company ; 
and in reality w^e continued it for three months. A wo- 
man in the neighbourhood prepared and brought us 
our victuals, to whom I gave a list of forty dishes ; in 
the composition of which there entered neither flesh 
nor fish. This fancy was the more agreeable to me^ 
as it turned to good account ; for the whole expence 
of our living did not exceed for each eighteen pence a 
week. 

I have since that period observed several Lents with 
the greatest strictness, and have suddenly returned 
again to nay ordinary diet, without experiencing the 
smallest inconvenience ; which has led me to regard as 
of no importance the advice commonl} given of intro- 
ducing gradually such alterations of regimen. 

I continued it cheerfully; but poor Keimer sufPer- 
ed terribly. Tired of ih^ project, he sighed for the 
flesh pots of Egypt. At length he ordered a roast pig, 
and invited me and two of cur female acquaintance to 
dine with him j but the pig being ready a little too soon, 
he could not resist the temptation, and cat it all up be- 
fore we arrived. 



46 LIFE OF 

During the circumstances I have related, I had paid 
some attention to Miss Read. I entertained for her 
the utmost esteem and affection ; and I had reason to 
believe that these sentiments were mutual. But we 
were both young, scarcely more than eighteen years 
of age : and as I wus on the point of undertaking a long 
voyage, her mother thought it prudent to prevent mat- 
ters being carried too far for the present, judging that 
if marriage was out object, there would be more pro- 
priety in it after my return, when, as at least I expected, 
I should be established in my business. Perhaps also 
she thought that my expectations were not so well found- 
ed as I imagined. 

My most intimate acquaintance at this time v/ere 
Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph ; 
young men who were all fond of reading. The two 
first were clerks to Mr. Charles Brockdon, one of the 
principal attornies in the town, and the other clerk to 
a merchant. Watson was un upright, pious, and sensi- 
ble young man ; the others were somewhat more loose 
in their principles of religion, particularly Ralph, 
whose faith, as well as that of Collins, I had contribut- 
ed to shake ; each of v/hom made me suffer an adequate 
punishment. Osborne was sensible, and sincere and 
affectionate in his friendshlos, but too much inclined to 
the critic in manners of literature. — Ralph was ingeni- 
ous and shrewd, genteel in his address^ and extremely 
eloquent. I do not remember to have meet with a more 
agreeable speaker. They were both enamoured of the 
muses, and had already evinced their passion by some 
small poetical productions. 

It was a custom with us to take a charming walk on 
Sundays, in the woods that border on the Skuylkill.— 
Here we read together, and afterwards conversed on 
what we read.% Ralph was disposed to give himself up 
entirely to poetry. He flattered himself that he should 
arrive at great eminence in the art, and even acquire a 
fortune. The sublimcst poets, he pretended, when they 
first began to write, committed as many faults as him 



DR. FRANKLIN. At 

self. Osborne endeavoured to dissuade him from it, 
by assuring him that he had no genius for poetry, and 
advised him to slick to the trade in which he had been 
brought up. In the road of commerce, said he, you 
you will be sure, by diligence and assiduity, though 
you have no capital, of so far succeeding as to be em- 
ployed as a factor, and may thus, in time, acquire the 
means of setting up for yourself. I concurred in these 
sentiments, but at the same time expressed my appro- 
bation of amusing ourselves sometimes with poetry, 
with a view to improve our style. In consequence of 
this it was proposed, that, at our next meeting, each of 
us should bring a copy of verses of his own coniposition* 
Our object in this comp; tition was to benefit each 
other by our mutual remarks, criticisms and corrections; 
and as style and expression were all we had in view, we 
excluded every idea of invention, by agreeing that our 
task should be a version of ihe eighteenth psalm, in 
which is d;iscribed the descent of tiie deity. 

The time of our meeting drew near, when Ralph 
called upon me and told me his piece was ready. I 
informed him that I had been idle, and, not much lik- 
ing the task, had done nothing. He showed me his 
piece, and asked what I thought of it I expressed 
myself in terms of warm approbation, because it really 
appeared to have considerable merit. He then said: 
Osborne will never acknowledge the smallest degree 
of excellence in any production of mine. Envy aione 
dictates to him a thousand animadversions. Of you he 
is not so jealous ; I wish therefore you would take the. 
verses and produce them as your own. I will pretend 
not to have had leisure to write any thing. We shall 
then see in what maimer he will speak of them. I 
agreed to this little artifice, and immedii^ely transcri- 
bed the verses to prevent all suspicion. 

We met. Watson's performance was the first that 
was read. It had some beauties, but many faults.— 
We next read Osborne's, which was much bstter.-— 
Ralph did it justicet remarking a few imperfections^ 



48 LIFE OF 

and applauding such parts as were excellent. He had 
himself nothing to show. It was now my turn. I 
made some difficulty ; seemed as if I wished to be ex- 
cused ; pretended that I had had no time to make cor- 
rections, Sec. No excuse, however, was admissible, 
and the piece must be produced. It was read and re- 
read. Watson and Osborne immediately resigned the 
palm, and united in applauding it. Ralph alone made 
a few remarks, and proposed some alterations ; but I 
defended my text. Osborne agreed with me, and told 
Ralph he was no more able to criticise than he was 
able to write. 

When Osborne was alone with me, he expressed 
himself still more strongly in favor of what he consi- 
dered as my performance. He pretended that he had 
put some restraint on himself before, apprehensive of 
my construing his commendation into flattery. But 
y/ho would have supposed, said he, Franklin to be ca- 
pable of such a composition ? What painting, what en- 
ergy, what fire ! He has surpassed the original. In his 
common conversation he appears not to have choice of 
words; he hesitates, and is at a loss ; and yet, good 
God how he writes ! 

At our next meeting Ralph discovered the trick we 
had played Osborne, who was rallied without mercy. 

By this adventure Ralph was fixed in his resolution 
of becoming a poet. I left nothing unattemptcd to 
divert him from his purpose ; but he persevered, till 
at last the reading of Pope* effected his cure ; he be- 
came, however, a very tolerable prose writer. I shall 
speak more of him hereafter ; but as I shall probably 
have no farther occasion to mention the other two, I 
ought to observe here, that Watson died in a few years 
after in my arms. He was greatly regretted, for he 

* Probably the Dunciad, where we find him thus immor« 
tvaljzed by the author* : 

Since ye wolves, while Ralph to Cyjithla howls, 
A.nd makes night hideous : answer him, ye owls * 



DR. FRANKLIN. 49 

Was the best of our society. Osborne went to the 
ishindsj where he gained considerable reputation as a 
barrister, and was getting money ; but he died young. 
We had seriously engaged, that whoever died first 
should return if passible, and pay a friendly visit to the 
survivor, to give him an account of the other world ; 
but he has never fulfilled his engagement. 

The governor appeared to be fond of my company, 
and frequently invited me to his house. He always 
spoke of his intention of settling me in business, as a 
point that was decided. I was to take with me letters 
of recommendation to a number of friends: and par- 
ticularly a letter of credit, in order to obtain tj>e neces- 
saiy sum for the purchase of my press, types, and pa- 
per. He appointed various times for me to come for 
these letters, which would certainly be ready ; and 
when I cam*e always put me off to another day. 

These successive delays continued till the vessel 
whose departure had been several times deferred, was 
on the point of setting sail ; when I again went to Sir 
William's house, to receive my letters and take leave 
of him. I saw his secretary, Dr. Bard, v/ho told me 
that the governor was extremely busy v/riting, but that 
he would be down at Newcastle before the vessel, and 
that the letters would be delivered to me there. 

Ralph, though he was married and had a child, de- 
termined to accompany me in this voyage. His object 
was supposed to he the establishing a correspondence 
with some mercantile houses, in order to sell goods by 
commission ; but I afterwards learned, that, having 
reason to be dissatisfied with the parents of his wife, he 
proposed to himself to leave her on their hands, and 
never return to America again. 

Having taken leave of my friends, and interchanged 
promises of fidelity with Miss Read, I quitted Phila- 
delphia. At Newcastle the vessel came to anchor.— 
The governor was arrived, and I went to his lodgings. 
His secretary i^ceived me with great civility, told me 
t3n the part of the governor that he could not see me 

£ 



i>0 UhE OF 

then, as he was engaged in afluirs of the utmost impor- 
lance^ but that he would send the letters on board, and 
that he wished me, with all his heart, a good voyage 
^nd speedy return. I returned somewhat astonished, 
to the ship, but still without entertaining the slightest 
5»uspicion. 

Mr. Hamilton a celebrated barrister of Philadelphia, 
iiad taken a passage to England for himself and his son, 
and, in conjunction with Mr. Denham a quaker, and 
Messrs. Oniam and Russel, proprietors of a forge in 
AVlaryland, had agreed for the whole cabin, so that 
Ralph and I v/ere obliged to take up our lodging with 
the crew. Being unknown to every body in the ship, 
we were looked upon as the common order of people : 
but Mr. Hamilton and his son (it was James, who was 
afterwards governor,) left us at Newcastle, and return- 
ed to Philadelphia, where he was recalled, at a very 
great expence, to plead the cause of a vessel that had 
been seized : and just as we were about to sail, colonel 
Finch came on board, and shewed me many civilities. 
The passengers upon this paid me more attention, and 
I was invited, together with my friend Ralph, to occu- 
pygithe place in the cabin which the return of the Mr. 
Hamiltons had made vacant ; an offer which we v^ry 
readily accepted. 

Having learned that the despatches of the governor 
had been brought on board by colonel Finch, I asked 
the captain for the letters tliat were to be entrusted to 
,my care. He told me that they were all put together 
in the bag, which he could not open at present : but 
ijefore we reached England, he would give me an op- 
portunity of taking them out. I was satisfied with this 
answer, and we pursued our voyage. 

The company in the cabin were all very sociable, 
and we were perfectly well off as to provisions, as we 
had the advantage of the whole of Mr, Hamilton's who 
had laid in a very plentiful stock. During the passage 
Mr. Denham contracted a friendship for me, which 
ended only vfith his lifQ ; in other respects the voyage 



DR. FRANKUN. 51 

xras by no means an agreeable one, as we had much 
bad weather. 

When we arrived in the river, the captain was as good 
as his word, and allowed me to search the bag for the 
governor's letters. I could not find a single one with 
my name written on it, as committed to my care ; but 
I selected six or seven, which I judged from the di- 
rection to be those that were intended for me ; particu- 
larly one to Mr. Basket the king's priBter, and another 
to a stationer, who was the first person I called upon. 
I delivered him the letter as coming from governor 
Keith. " I have no acquaintance (said he) with any 
*' such person ;" and opening the letter, " oh, it is from 
<^ Riddlesden !" he exclaimed. " I have lately discover- 
<* ed him to be a very arrant knave, and I wish to have 
" nothing to do either with him or his letters." He in- 
stantly put the letter into my hand, turned upon his 
heel, and left me to serve some customers. 

I was astonished at finding these letters were not 
from the governor. Reflecting and putting circum- 
stances together, I then began to doubt his sincerity* 
I rejoined my friend Denham, and related the whole 
affair to him. He let me at once into Keith's charac- 
ter, told there was not the least probability of his having 
•written a single letter ; that no one who knew him ever 
placed any reliance on him, and laughed at my credu- 
lity in supposing that the governor would give me a let- 
ter of credit, when he had no credit for himself. As 
I showed some uneasiness respecting what step I 
should take, he advised me to try to get employment in 
the house of some printer. You may there, said he,. 
improve yourself in business, and you will be able to 
settle yourself the more advantageously when you re- 
turn to America. 

We knew already, as well as the stationer, attorney 
Riddlesden to be a knave. He had nearly ruined the 
father of Miss Read, by drawing him in to be his secu- 
rity. We learned from his letter, that he was secretly 
carrying on an intrigue, in concert with the governor^ 



S^ LIFE OF 

to the prejudice of Mr. Hamilton, who it was supposed 
would by this time be in Europe. Denham,. who was 
Hamilton's friend, was of opinion that he oug^ht to be 
made acquainted with it; and in reality, the instant he 
arrived in England, which was very soon after, I wait- 
ed on him, and, as much from good will to him as from 
resentment against the governor, put the letter into his 
hands. He thanked me very sincerely, the informa- 
tion it contained being of consequence to him ; and from 
that moment bestowed on me his friendship, which af- 
terwards proved on many occasions serviceable to me.. 

But what are \ye to think of ^ governor who could 
play so scurvy a trick, and thus grossly deceive a poor 
young lad, wholly destitute of experience ? It was a 
practice with him. Wishing to please every body, and 
having little to bestow, he was lavish of promises. He 
was in other respects sensible and judicious, a very 
tolerable writer, and a good governor for th.e people, 
though not so for the proprietaries, whose instructions 
he frequently disregarded. Many of our best laws 
were his v»^ork, and established during his administra- 
tion. 

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took 
a lodging together at three and six-pence a week, which 
was as much as \ye could afford. He met with some 
relations in London, but they were poor, and not able 
to assist him. He now, for the first time, informed 
3arie of his intention to remain in England, and that be 
had no thoughts of ever returning to Philadelphia, He 
was totally without money ^ the little he had been able 
to raise having barely sufficed for his passage. I had 
still fifteen pistoles remaining ; and to me he had from 
time to time recourse, while he tried to get employ- 
ment. 

At first, believing himself possessed of talents for 
the stage, he thought of turnh)g actor : but Wilkes, 
to whom he applied, frankly advised him to renounce 
the idea, as it was impossible to succeed. He next pro- 
posed to Roberts* a bQpl$.seUer in Paternostor-Rov/. to 



»n, FBAKKLIN. J< 

Write a weekly paper in the manner ot' the Spectator, 
upon terms to which Roberts would not listen. — Last- 
ly he endeavoured to procure imployment as a copyist, 
and applied to the lawyers and stationers about the tem- 
ple, but he could find no vacancy. 

As to myself, I immediately got engaged at Pal mer^s, 
at that time a noted printer in Bartholomew-Close, 
with whom I continued nearly a year. I applied very 
assiduously to my work ; but I expended with Ralph 
almost all that I earned. Plays, and other places of 
amusement which we fequented together, having ex- 
hausted my pistoles, we lived after this from hand to 
mouth. He appeared to have entirely forgotten his wife 
and child, as I also, by degrees, forgot my engagements 
with Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more than 
t)ne letter, and that merely to inform her that I was 
not likely to return soon. This was another grand er- 
ror of my life, which 1 should be desirous of correct- 
ing, were 1 to begin my career again. 

I was employed at Palmer's on the second edition of 
Woolaston's Religion of Nature. Some of his argu- 
ments appearing to me not to be well founded, I wrote 
a small metaphysical treatise, in which I animadverted 
on those passages. It was entitled a Dissertation on 
Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain. I dedica- 
ted it to my friend Ralph, and printed a small number 
of copies. Palmer upon this treated me with more 
consideration, and regarded me as a young man of ta- 
lents ; though he seriously took me to task for the prin- 
ciples of my pamphlet, which he looked upon as abom- 
inable. The printing of this work was another error 
of my life. 

While I lodged in Little Britain, I formed acquain- 
tance with a bookseller of the name of Wilcox, whose 
shop was next door to me. Circulating libraries were 
not then in use. He had an immense collection of 
books of all sorts. We agreed that, for a reasonable 
retribution, of which I have now forgotten the price, X 
should have free access to his library, and take what 

£ 2 



:H! 



i tIFE OP 



books I pleased, which I was to return when I had read 
them. 1 considered this agreement as a very great ad- 
vantage, and 1 derived from it as much benefit as wa* 
in my power. 

My pamphlet falling into the hands of a surgeon, of 
the name of Lyons, author of a book entitled Infallibil- 
ity of Human Judgment, was the occasion of a consi- 
derable intimacy between us. He expressed great es- 
teem for me, came frequently to see mc in order to con- 
verse upon metaphysical subjects, and introduced me 
to Dr. Mandeville, author of the Fable of Bees, wha 
had instituted a club at a tavern in Cheapside, of which 
he was the soul ; he v/as a facetious and very amusing 
character. He also introduced me, at Baston's coffee- 
house, to Dr. Pemberton, who promised to give me 
an opportunity of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, which I 
very ardently desired : but he never kept his word, 

I had brought some curiosities with me from Ame- 
rica ; the principal of which was a purse made of as- 
bestos, which fire only purifies. Sir Hans Sloane hear-^ 
ing of it, called upon me, and invited me to his house 
in Bloomsbury square, v/here, after showing me every 
thing that was curious, he prevailed on me ta add this 
piece to his collection ; for which he paid me very 
handsomely. 

There lodged in the same house with us a young- 
i^^oman, a milliner, who had a shop by the side of the 
Exchange, 'Lively and sensible, and having received 
an education somewhat above her rank, her conversa- 
tion was very agreeable. Ralph read plays to her every 
evening. They became intimate. She took another 
lodging, and he followed her. They lived for some 
time together ; but Ralph being without employment, 
*he having a child, and the profits of her business not 
bUilicing for the maintenance of three, he resolved to 
quit London, and try a country school. This was a plan 
m which he thought himself likely to succeed, as he 
wrote a fine hand, and was versed in arithmetic and ac- 
counts But considering the office as beneath him, and 



DR. TRANKLIN. SS 

expecting some day to make a better figure in the 
world, when he should be ashamed of its being known 
that he had exercised a profession so little honorable, 
he changed his name, and did me the honor of as- 
suming mine. He wrote to me soon after his depar- 
ture, informing me that he was settled at a small village 
in Berkshire. In his letter he recommended Mrs* 
T***, the milliner, to my care, and requested an an- 
swer, directed to Mr. Franklin, school-master, at N***. 

He continued to write to me frequently, sending m.e 
large fragments t)f an epic poem he was composing, 
and which he requested me to criticise and correct— 
I did so, but not without endeavouring to prevail on 
him to renounce this pursuit. Young had just publish- 
ed one of his Satires. I copied and sent him a great 
part of it ; in v. hich the author demonstrates the folly 
of cultivating the Muses, from the hope, by their instru- 
mentality, of rising in the world. It was all.to no pur- 
pose ; paper after paper of his poem continued to ar- 
rive every post. 

Meanwhile Mrs. T*** having lost, on his account, 
both her friends and her business, was frequently in dis- 
tress. In this dilemma she had recourse to me ; and 
to extricate her from her dilRculties, I lent her all the 
money I could spare. I felt a little too much fondness 
for her. Having at that time no lies of religion, and 
taking advantage of her necessitous situation, I attempt- 
ed liberties, (another error of my life) which she repell- 
ed with becoming indignation. She informed Ralph 
of my conduct, and the axfair occasioned a breach be- 
tween us. When he returned to London, he gave me 
to understand that he considered all the obligations he 
owed me as annihilated by this proceeding ; whence I 
concluded that I was never to expect the payment of 
what money I had lent him, or advanced on his account. 
I was the less afRicted at this, as he was unable to pay 
me ; and as, by losing his friendship, I was relieved at 
the same time from a very heavy burthen. » 



I now began to think of laying by some money. The 
printing-house of Watts, near Lincohi*s Inn-F'ields, be- 
ing a still more considerable one than that in which I 
worked, it was probable I might find it more advanta- 
geous to be employed there. I offered myself, and 
was accepted ; and in this house I continued during the 
remainder of my stay in London. 

On my entrance I worked at first as a press-man ; 
conceiving that I had need of bodily exercise, to which 
I had been accustomed in America, where the printei-s 
work alternately as compositors an'd at the press. I 
drank nothing but water. The other workmen, to the 
number of about fifty, were great drinkers of beer. I 
carried occasionally a large form of letters in each hand, 
up and dov/n stairs, while the rest employed both hands 
to carry one. They were surprised to see, by this and 
many other examples, that the American Aquatic^ as 
they used.to call me, was stronger than those who drank 
porter. The beer boy had sufficient employment du- 
ring the whole day in serving that house alone. My 
fellow press-man drank every day a pint of beer before 
breakfast, a pint with bread and cheese for breakfast, 
one between breakfast and dinner, one at dinner, one 
again about six o'clock in the afternoon, and another 
after he had finished his day's work. This custom ap- 
peared to me abominable ; but he had need, said he, of 
all this beer, in order to acquire strength to work. 

I endeavoured to convince him that bodily strength 
furnished by the beer, could only be in proportion to 
the solid part of the barley dissolved in the water of 
which the beer was composed ; that there was a larger 
portion of flour in a penny loaf, and that consequently 
if he eat this loaf, and drank a pint of water with it, he 
would derive more strength from it t'nan from a pint of 
beer. This reasoning, however, did not prevent him 
from drinking his accustomed quantity of beer, and pay- 
ing every Saturday night a score of four or five shil- 
lings a week for this cursed beverage ; an expence from 
which I was wholly exempt. Thus do those poor de- 



DR. FRANKLIN, St 

vils continue all their lives in a state ^of voluntary 
wretchedness and poverty. 

At the end of a fev/ weeks, Watts having occasion 
for me above stairs as a compositor, I quitted the press. 
The compositors demanded of me garnish-money 
afresh. This I considered as an imposition, having al- 
ready paid below. The master v/as of the same opinion, 
and desired me not to comply. I thus remained two 
or three weeks on the fraternity. I was consequently 
looked upon as excommunicated: and whenever I was 
absent, no little trick that malice could suggest was left 
unpractised upon me. I found my letters mixed, my 
pages transposed, my matter broken, Sec. &c. all which 
was attributed to the spirit that haunted the chapel,* 
and tormented those who were not regularly admitted* 
I was at last obliged to submit to pay, notwithstanding 
the protection of the master ; convinced of the folly of 
not keeping up a good understanding with those among 
V. horn we are destined to live. 

After this I lived in the utmost harmony with my 
feliow-labourers, and soon acquired considerable influ- 
ence among them. I proposed some alterations in the 
laws of the chapel, which I carried v/ithout opposition. 
My example prevailed with several of them to renounce 
their abominable practice of bread and cheese with 
beer; and they procured, like me, from a neighbour- 
ing house, a good bcison of warm gruel^in which was a 
small slice of butter, with tousted bread and nutmeg. 
This was a much better breakfast, which did not cost 
more than a pint of beer, namely, three-half-pence, and 
at the same time preserving the head clearer. Those 
who continued to gorge themselves with beer, often 
lost their credit with the publican, from neglecting to 
pay their score. They had then recourse to me, to be- 
come security for them j thdr lights as they used to call 
it, being out, I attended at the pay -table every Sutur- 

* Prmling'-houses in general are thus denominated by the 
workmen \ the spirit they call by the name oi HalpK 



S^ LIFE OP 

day evening, to take up the little sum of money which 
I had made myself answerable for ; and which some*- 
times amounted to nearly thirty shillings a week. 

This circumstance, added to my reputation of being 
a tolerable good g-abber^ or in other words, skilful in the 
art of burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. 
I had besides, recommended myself to the esteem of 
my master by my assiduous application to business, ne-^ 
Ter observing Saint Monday. My extraordinany quick- 
ness in corriposing always procured me such work as 
was most urgent, and which is commonly best paid ; 
and thus my time passed away in a very pleasant man- 
ner. 

My lodging in Little Britain being too far from the 
printing-house, I took another in Duke-street, opposite 
the Roman Chapel. It was at the back of an Italian 
warehouse. The house was kept by a widow who had 
^ daughter, a servant, and a shop-boy ; but the latter 
•slept out of the house. After sending to the people 
with whom I lodged in Little Britain, to enquire into 
my character, she agreed to take me in at the same 
paice, three-and-sixpence a week ; contenting herself, 
she saidjAvith so little, because of the security she would 
derive, as 4hey v/ere all women, iVom havmg a man 
lodge in the house. 

She was a woman rather advanced in life, the daugh- 
ter of a clergyman. She had been educated a Protes- 
tant ; but her husband, whose memory she highly re- 
vered, hud converted her to the Catholic religion.— 
She had lived in habits of intimacy with persons of dis- 
tinction ; of whom she knev/ various anecdotes as far 
back as the time of Charles II. Being subject to fits 
of the gout, which often confined her to her room, she 
was sometimes disposed to see company. Her's was 
so amusing to me, that I was glad to pass the evening 
with her as often as she desired it. Our supper con- 
sisted only of half an anchovy a-piece, upon a slice of 
bread and butter, with a half pint of ale between us.— 
But the entertainment was in her convcrsatioHo 



Da. FRANKLIN. 69 

The early hours I kept, and the little trouble I oc- 
casioned the fannily, made her loath to part with me ; 
and when 1 mentioned another lodging I had foundj 
nearer the printing-house, at two shillings a week, 
which fell in with my plan of saving, she persuaded me 
to give it up, making herself an abatement of two shil- 
lings : and thus I continued to lodge with her, during 
the remainder of my abode in London, at eigh teen-pence 
4k week. 

In a garret of the house there lived, in the most re-* 
tired manner, a lady seventy years of age, of whom I 
received the following account from my landlady : She 
was a Roman Catholic. In her early years she had 
been sent to the continent, and entered a convent with 
the design of becoming a nun ; but the climate not 
agreeing with her constitution, she was obliged to re- 
,turn to England, where, as there was no monasteries, she 
made a vow to lead a monastic life, in as rigid a manner 
as circumstanced would permit. She accordingly dis- 
posed of all her property to be applied to charitable 
uses, reserving to herself only tv/elve pounds a year ; 
and of this small pittance she gave a part to the poor, 
living on water-gruel, and never making use of fire but 
to boil it. She had lived in this garret a great many 
years without paying rent to the successive Catholic 
inhabitants that had kept the house ; who indeed con« 
sidered her abode with them as a blessing. A priest 
cjame every day to confess her. I have asked her, said 
my landlady, how, living as she did, she could find so 
much employment for a confessor ? To which s!ie an- 
swered, that it was impossible to avoid vain thoughts, 

I was once permitted to visit her. She was cheer- 
ful and polite, and her conversation agreeable. Her 
apartment was neat i but the whole furniture consisted 
of a matrass, a table, on which were a crucifix and a 
book, a chair, which she gave me to sit on, and over the 
mantle-piece a picture of St. Veronica, displaying her 
handkerchief, on which was seen the miraciilous im- 
pression of the fiice of Christy which she explained to 



60 LIFE OP 

xne with great gravity. Her countenance was pale, 
but she had never experienced sickness ; and I may ad- 
duce her as another proof how little is sufficient to 
maintain life and health. . 

At the printing-house I contracted an intimacy with 
a sensible young man of the name of Wygate, who, as 
his parents were in good circumstances, had received 
a better education than is common with printers. He 
Was a tolerable Latin scholar, spoke French fluently and 
was fond of reading. I taught him, as well as a friend 
of his, to swim, by taking ihem twice only into the ri- 
ver ; after which they stood in need of no farther assis- 
tance. We one day made a party to go by water to 
Chelsea, in order to see the College, and Don Soitero's 
curiosities. On our return, at the request of the com- 
pany, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, 1 undres- 
sed myself, and leaped into the river. I swam from 
near Chelsea the whole way to Blackfriar's Bridge, ex- 
hibiting, curing my course, a variety of feats of activi- 
ty and address, both upon the surface of tlic water, as 
well as under it. This sight occasioned much astonish- 
ment and pleasure to those to whom it was new. In 
my youth I took great delight in this exercise. 1 knew, 
and could execute all the evolutions and positions of 
Thevenot ; and I added to them some of my own in- 
vention, in which I endeavoured to unite gracefulness 
and utility, I took a pleasure in displaying, them all on 
this occabion, and was highly flattered with the admira- 
tion they excited. 

Wygate besides his being desirous of perfecting him- 
self in this art, was the more attached to me from there 
being in other respects, a conformity in our tastes and 
studies. He at length proposed to me to make the 
tour of Europe with him, maintaining ourselves at the 
same time by working at our profession, I was on the 
point of consenting, when i mentioned it to my friend 
Denham, with whom I was i^lad to pass an hour when- 
ever I had leisure. He dissuaded me froni the pro- 
ject, and advised me to return to Philadelphia, wiiich 



DR. FRANKLIN. 61 

he was about to do himself. I must relate in this place 
a trait of this worthy man's character. 

He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but fail- 
ing, he compounded with his creditors, and departed 
for America, where, by assiduous application as a mer- 
chant, he acquired in a few years a very considerable 
fortune. Returning to England in the same vessel 
Avith myself, as I have related above, he invited all his 
old creditors to a feast. When assembled, he thanked 
them for the readiness with which they had received his 
small composition ; and, while they expected nothing 
more than a simple entertainment, each found under 
his plate, when it came to be removed, a draft upon a 
banker for the residue of his debt, with interest. 

He told me it was his intention to carry back with 
him to Philadelphia a great quantity of goods, in order 
to open a store ; and he offered to take me with him in 
the capacity of clerk, to keep his books, in which he 
would instruct me, copy letters, and superintend the 
store. He added, that as soon as I acquired a know- 
ledge of mercantile transactions, he would improve 
tny situation, by sending me with a cargo of corn and 
flour to the American islands, and by procuring rae 
other lucrative commissions ; so that, with good man- 
agement and oeconomy, I might begin business with ad- 
Vantage for myself. 

I relished these proposals. London began to tire 
me; the agreeable hours I had passed at Philadelphia 
presented themselves to my mind, and I wished to see 
them revive. I consequently engaged myself to Mr, 
Denham, at a salary of fifty pounds a year. This was 
indeed less than I earned as a compositor, but then I 
had a much fairer prospect. I took leave, therefore, 
as I believed forever, of printing, and gave myself up 
entirely to my new occupation, spending all my time 
either in going from house to house with Mr. Denham 
to purchase goods, or in packing them up, or in expe- 
dithig the workmen, kc. &c. When every thing how- 
ever was on board, I had at last a few days leisure. 

F 



62 LIFE OF 

During this interval, I was one day sent for by a gen^ 
tlenian, whom I knew only by name. It was Sir Wil- 
liam Windham. I went to his house. He had by some 
means heard of my peiformances between Chelsea and 
Blackfriars, and that I had taught the art of swimmiiig 
to Wygatc and another young man in the course of a 
few hours. His two sons was on the point of setting 
out on their travels ; he was desirous that they should 
previously learn to swim, and offered me a very liber- 
al reward if I would undertake to instruct them. They 
were not yet arrived in town, and the stay I slTould make 
myself was uncertain ; I could not therefore accept his 
proposal. I was led however to suppose from this in- 
cident, that if I had wished to remain in London, and 
open a swimming-school, 1 should perhaps have gained 
a great deal of money. This idea struck me so forcibly, 
that, had the offer been made sooner, I should have 
dismissed the thought of returning as yet to America. 
Some years after, you and I had a more important bu- 
siness to settle with one of the sons of Sir William 
Windham, then lord Egremx)nt. But let us not anti- 
cipate events. 

I thus passed about eighteen months in London, 
working almost withotu intermission at my trade, avoid- 
ing all expence on my own account, except going 
now and then to the play, and purchasing a few books. 
But my friend Ralph kept me poor. He owed me about 
twenty-seven pounds, which was so much money lost ; 
and when considered as taken from my little savings, 
was a very great sum. I had notwithstanding this, a 
regard for him, as he possessed many amiable quali- 
ties. But though I had done nothing for myself in 
point of fortune, I had encreased my stock of know- 
ledge, cither by the excelknt books I had read, or the 
conversation of learned and literary persons with whom 
I was acquainted. 

We sailed from Gravesend the 23d of July 1726 — 
For the incidents of my voyage I refer you to my jour- 
nal, where you will fend all the circumstances iiiinutC' 



DR. FRANKLIN. 63 

ly related. We landed at Philadelphia on the 1 Itb of 
the following October. 

Keith hud been deprived of the office of Governor, 
was succeeded by Major Gordon. I met him walking 
in the street as a private individual. He appeared a 
little ashamed at seeing me, but passed on without say- 
ing any thing. - 

I should have been equally ashamed myself at meet» 
ing Miss Read, had not her family, justly despairing 
of my return after reading my letter, advised her to 
give me up, and marry a potter, of the name of Rogers ; 
to which she consented ; but he never made her hap- 
py, and she soon separated from him, refusing to coha- 
bit with him, or even bare his name, on account cf a 
report which prevailed, of his haviiig another wife. His 
skill in his profession had seduced Miss Read's parents ; 
but he was as bad a subject as he was excellent as a 
workman. He involved himself in debt, and fled in the 
year 1727 or 1728, to the West Indies, where he died. 

During my absence Keimer had taken a more con- 
siderable house, in which he kept a shop, that was v^'ell 
supplied with paper and various other articles. He 
had procured some new types, and a number of work- 
men ; among whom, however, there was not one who 
was good for any thing j and he appeared not to want 
business. 

Mr. Denham took a warehouse in Water-street, 
where we exhibited our commodities. I applied my- 
self closely, studied accounts, and became in a short 
time very expert in trade. We lodged and eat togeth- 
er. He was sincerely attached to me, and acted to- 
wards me as if he had been my father. On my si-dc, 
I respected and loved him. My situation was happy ; 
but it was a happiness of no long duration. 

Early in February 1727, when I entered into my 
twenty-second year, we were both taken ill. I was at- 
tacked with a pleurisy, which had nearly carried me oif ; 
I suffered terribly, and considered it as all over with 
me. 1 felt indeed a sort of disappointment when I 



64 LIFE OF 

found myself likely to recover, and regretted that I had 
still to experience, sooner or later, the same disagree- 
able scene again. 

I have forgotten what was Mr. Denham's disorder ; 

but it was u tedious one, and he at last sunk under it 

He left me a small legacy m his will, as. a testimony of 
his friendship ; and 1 was once more abandoned to my- 
self in the wide world ; the warehouse being confided 
to the care of a testamentary executor, who dismissed 
me. 

My brother-in-law, Holmea, who happened to be at 
Philadelphia, advised me to return te my former pro- 
fession, and Mr. Keimer offered me a very consider- 
?ibie salary if I would undertake the management of 
his printing-office, that he might devote himself entire- 
ly to the superintcndance of his shop* His wife and 
relations in London had given me a bad character of 
hlra ; and I was loath for the present, to have any con- 
cern with him. I endeavoured to get employment aS: 
a clerk to a merchant ;. but not readily finding a situa- 
rion, I Vt^as induced to accept Keimer's proposal. 

The follov/ing were the persons I found in his print- 
ing liouse 2 

Hugh Meredith, a Pennsylvanian, about thirty-five 
years of age. He had been brought up to husbandry, 
'p/as honest, sensible, had some experience, and was 
fond of reading ; but too much addicted to drinking. 

Stephen Potts, a young rustic, just broke from 
jichool, and of rustic education, with endowments ra- 
ther above the common order, and a competent por- 
tion of understanding and gaity ; but a little idle. Kei-, 
mer had engaged these two at very low wages, which 
he had promised to raise every three months a shilling 
a week, provided their improvement in the typograph- 
ic art should merit it. This future increase of wages 
was the bait he made use of to ensnare them. Mere- 
deth w^as to work at the press, and Potts to bind books> 
which he had engaged to teach them, thou{>:h he un- 
der.«tood neither h\ms^l(. 



hu. FRANKtTIsf. <>i 

John Savage, an Irishman, who had been brought 
up lo no trade, and whose service, for a period of four 
years, Keimer had purchased of the captain of a ship. 
He wa*i also to be a press-man. 

George Webb, an Oxford scholar, whose time he 
had in like manner bought for four years, intending 
him for a compositer. I shall speak more of him pre^ 
sently. 

Lastly, David Harry, a country lad, who was appren ^ 
ticed to him. 

I soon perceived that Keimer's intention, in engag- 
ing me at a price so much above what he was accus- 
tomed to give, was, that I might form all these ra\V 
journeymen and apprentices, who scarcely cost him 
any thing, and who, being indentured, would as soon 
as they should be sufficiently instructed, enable him to 
do without me. I nevertheless adhered to my agree- 
ment. I put the office in order, which was in the ut- 
most confusion, and brought his people, by degrees, to 
pay attention to their work, and to execute it in a more 
masterly manner. 

It was singular to see an Oxford scholar in the con- 
dition of a purchased servant. He was not more than 
eighteen years of age ; and the following are the par° 
ticulars he gave me of himself. Born at Gloucester, 
he had been educated at a grammar school, and had 
distinguished himself among the scholars by his supe- 
rior style of acting, when they represented dramatic 
performances. He was a member of a literary club in 
the town, and some pieces of his composition, in prose 
as well as in verse, had been inserted in the Glouces- 
ter papers. From hence he was sent to Oxford, where 
he remained about a year ; but he was not contented, 
and wished above all things to see London, and become 
an actor. At length, having received fifteen guineas 
to pay his quarterns board, he decamped with the mo-= 
ney from Oxford, hid his gov/n in a hedge, and travel- 
led to London. There, having no friend to direct him/ 
he fell into bad company, soon squandered his fifteen 

F2 

I 



66 LIFE OF 

guineas, could iind no way of being introduced to the 
actors, became contemptible, pawned his clothes, and 
was in want of bread. As he was walkhig along the 
streets, almost famished with hunger, and not k- owing 
what to do, a recruiting bill was put into his hand, 
which oiTered an immediate treat and bounty money 
to whoever was disposed to serve in America. He in- 
stantly repaired to the house of rendezvous, inlisied 
himself, was put on board a ship and conveyed to Ame- 
rica, without ever writing to inform his parents what 
had become of him. His mental vivacity, and good 
natural disposition, made him an excellent companion ; 
but he was indolent, thoughtless, and to the last degree 
imprudent. 

John, the Irishman, soon ran away. I began to live 
very agreeable with the rest. They respected me, and 
the more so as they found Keimer incapable of instruct- 
ing them, and as they learned something from me 
every day. We never worked on a Saturday, it being 
Keimer's sabbath ; so that I had too days a week for 
reading. 

I increased my acquaintance with persons of know- 
ledge and information in the town. Keimer himself 
treated me with great civility and apparent esteem ; 
and I had nothing to give me uneasiness but my debt 
to Vernon, which I was unable to pay, my savings as 
yet being very little. He had the goodness, hov/ever, 
not to ask me for the money. 

Our press was frequently in want of the necessary 
quantity of letter ; and there was no such a trade as 
that of a letter-founder in America. I had seen the 
practice of this art at the house of James, in London ; 
but had at the same time paid very little attention to it. 
I however contrived to fabricate a mould. I made use 
of such letters as we had for punches, founded new 
letters of lead in matrices of clay, and thus supplied in 
a tolerable manner, the wants that were most pressing. 

I also, upon occasion, engraved various ornaments, 
made ink. gave an eye to the shop j in short, I was in 



DR. FRANKLl^^*. 67 

every respect the faetotmn. But useful as I made my- 
self, I perceived that my services became every day 
of less importance, in proportion as the other men im- 
proved ; and when Keimer paid me my second quar- 
ter's wages, he gave me to understand that they were 
too heavy, and that he thought I ought to make an abate- 
ment. He became by degrees less civil, and assumed 
more the tone of master. He frequently found fault, 
was difficult to please, and seemed always on the point 
of coming to an open quarrel with me. 

I continued, however, to bear it patiently, conceiv- 
ing that his ill-humour was partly occasioned by the 
derangement and embarrassment of his affcjirs. At last a 
slight incident broke our connection. Hearing a noise 
in the neighbourhood, I put my head out of the window 
to see v/hat was the matter. Keimer being in the street, 
observed me, and in a loud and angry tone, told me to 
mind my work ; adding some reproachful words which 
piqued me the more as they were uttered in the street ; 
and the neighbours, whom the same noise had attracted 
to the windows, were witnesses of the manner in which 
I was treated. He immediately carne up to the print- 
ing-room, and continued to exclaim against me. The 
quarrel became warm on both sides, i.nd he gave me 
notice to quit him at the expiration of three mionths, 
as had been agreed between us ; regretting that he was 
obliged to give me so long a term. I told him that his 
regret was superfluous, as I was ready to quit him in- 
stantly ; and I took my hat and came out of the house, 
begging Meredith to take care of some things which 
I left, and bring them to my lodging. 

Meredith came to me in the evening. We talked 
for some time upon the quarrel that had taken place. 
He had conceived a great veneration for me, and was 
sorry I should quit the house while he remauied in it. 
He dissuaded me from returning to my native country, 
as I began to think of doing. He reminded me that 
Keimer owed more than he possessed; that his credit- 
ors began to be alarmed ; that he kept his shop in a 



6B LIFE OF 

wretched state, often selling things at prime cost for 
the gake of ready money, and continually giving credit 
without keeping any accounts ; that of consequence he 
must very soon fail, which would occasion a vacancv 
from which I might derive advantage. I objected 
my want of money. Upon which he informed mc 
that his father had a very high opinion of me, and, 
from a conversation that had passed between them, he 
would advance whatever might be necessary to estab- 
lish us, if I was willing to enter into partnership with 
him. " My time with Keimer,'* added he, <^ will be at 
an end next spring. In the mean time we may send to 
London for our press and types. I know that I ani 
no workman ; but if you agree to the proposal, your 
skill in the business will be balanced by the capital I 
will furnish, and we will share the profits equally." 
His proposal was reasonable, and I fell in with it. His 
father, who was then in the town, approved of it. He 
knew that I had some ascendency over his son, as I had 
been able to prevail on him to abstain a long time from 
drinking brandy ; and he hoped that, when more close- 
ly connected with him, I should cure him entirely of 
this unfortunate habit. 

I gave the father a list of what it would be necessary 
to import from London. He took it to a merchant, and 
the order was given. We agreed to keep the secret 
till the arrival of the materials, and I was in the mean 
time to procure work, if possible, in another printing- 
house ; but there was no place vacant, and I remained 
idle. After some days, Keimer having the expecta- 
tion of being employed to print some New- Jersey mo- 
ney bills, that would require ^ypes and engravings 
which I only could furnish, and fearful that Bradford, 
by engaging me, might deprive him of the undertaking, 
sent me a very civil message, telling me that old friends 
ought not to be disunited on account of a few words, 
which were the effect only of a momentary passion, knd 
inviting me to return to him. Meredith persuaded me 
to comply with the invitation, pv\rtiGularly as it would 



BR. FRANKLIN. 69 

afford him more opportunities of improving himself in 
the business by means of instructions. I did so, and 
we lived upon better terms than before our separation. 

He obtained the New-Jersey business ; and, in ordei* 
to execute it, I constructed a copper-plate printing- 
press ; the first that had been seen in the country. I 
engraved various ornaments and vignettes for the bills, 
and we repaired to Burlington together, where I exe- 
cuted the whole to the general satisfaction ; and he re- 
ceived a sum of money for this work, which enabled 
him to keep his head above water for a considerable 
time lonc-er. 

At Burlington I formed an j^cquaintance with the 
principal personages c#iihe province ; many of whom 
were commissioned by the assembly to superintend the 
press, and to see that no more bills were printed than 
the law prescribed. Accordingly they were constant- 
ly with us, each in his turn ; and he that came common- 
ly brought with him a friend or two to bear him com- 
pany. My mind was more cultivated by reading than 
Keimer's ; and it was for this reason, probably, that 
they set more value on my conversation. They took me 
to their houses, introduced me to their friends^ and treat- 
ed me with the greatest civility ; while Keimer, though 
master, saw himself a little neglected. He v*^as, in fact, 
a strange animal ; ignorant of the common modes of 
life, apt to oppose with rudeness generally received 
opinions, an enthusiast in certain points of religion, dis- 
gustingly unclean in his person, and a little knavish 
withal. 

We remaned there nearly three months ; and at the 
expiration of this period I could include in the list of 
my friends. Judge Allen, Samuel Bustil, secretary of 
the province, Isaac Pearon, Joseph Cooper, several of 
the Smiths, all members of the assembly, and Isaac 
Deacon, inspector general. The last was a shrewd and 
subtle old man. He told me, that, when a boy, his first 
employment had been in carrying clay to brickmakers ; 
that he did not learn to write till he was somewhat ad- 



70 LIFE OP 

vanced in life ; that he was afterwards employed as an 
underling to a surveyor, who taught him his trade, and 
that by industry he had at last acquired*a competent 
fortune. " I foresee," said he one clay to me, " that 
you will soon supplant this man," speaking of Keimer, 
" and get a fortune in the business at Philadelphia." 
He was totally ignorant at the time of my intention of 
establishing myself there, or any where else. These 
friends were very serviceable to me in the end, as was 
I also, upon occasion; to some of them ; and they have 
continued ever since their esteem for me. 

Before I relate the particulars of my entrance into bu- 
siness, it may be proptr to inform you what was at that 
time the state of my mind as to moral principles, that 
you may see the degree of influence they had upon the 
subsequent events of my life. 

My parents had given me betimes religious impres- 
sions ; and I received from my infancy a pious educa- 
tion in the principles of Calvinism. But scarcely was 
I arrived at fifteen years of age, v/hen after having 
doubted in turn of different tenets, according as I found 
them combated in different books that I read, I began 
to doubt of revelation itself. Some volumes against 
deism fell into my hands. They were said to' be the 
substance of sermons preached at Boyle's Lecture. It 
happened that they produced on me an effect precisely 
the reverse of what was intended by the writers ; for 
the arguments of the deists, which were cited in order 
to be refuted, appeared to me much more forcible than 
the refutation itself. In a word, I soon became a per- 
fect deist. My arguments perverted some other young 
persons ; particularly Collins and Ralph. But in the 
sequel, when I recollected that they had both used me 
extremely ill, without the smallest remorse ; when I 
considered the behaviour of Keith, another freethinker, 
■Ml&^ nriy own conduct towards Vernon and Miss Read, 
which at times gave me much uneasiness, I was led to 
suspect that this doctrine, though it might be true, was 
not very useful. I began to entertidn a less favourable 



DR. FRANKLIN. 71 

opinion of my London pamphlet, to which I had pre- 
fixed, as a motto, the follovvibg lines of Dryden : 

Whatever is, is right ; tho' piirbHiid man 
Sees but part of the chain, the nearest link. 
His eyes not carrying to the equal beam 
That poises all above. 

And of which the object was to prove, from the attri- 
butes, of God, his goociness, wisdom and power, that 
there could be no such thing as evil in the world ; that 
vice and virtue did net in reality exist, and were noth- 
ing more than vain distinctions. I no longer regard- 
ed it as so blameless a work as I had form*^ riy imagin- 
ed ; and I suspected that some error must impercepti- 
bly have glided into my argument, by all the inferen- 
ces I had drdwn from it had been efi tcted, as it fre- 
quently happens in metaphysical reasonings. In a word, 
I WhS at last convinced that truth, probity and sincerir 
ty, in trar:sactions between man and nian were of the 
utmost importance to the happiness of life ; and I re- 
solved from that moment, and wrote the resolution in 
my journal, to practice them as long as 1 lived. 

Revelation indeed, as such, had no influence on my 
mind ; but 1 was of opinion that, though certain actions 
could not be bad merely because revelation prohibited 
them, or good because it enjoined them, yet it was pro- 
bable that those actions were prohibited because they 
were bad for us, or enjoined because advantageous in 
their nature, all things considered. This persuasion, 
divine providence, or some guardian angel, and per- 
haps a concurrence of favourable circumstances co-op- 
erating, preserved me from all inimorality, or gross 
and voluntary injustice, to which my Wcint of religion 
was calculated to expose me,, in the dangerous period 
of youth, and in the hazardous situations in which I 
sometimes found myself, among strangers, and at a dis- 
tance, from the eye and admonitions of my L.tner. i 
may say x'o/i^w^art/, because the errors into which I had 
ffiUen, had been in a manner the forced result either o£ 



72 LIFE OF 

my own inexperience, or the dishonesty of others.- — 
Thus, before I entered on my new career, I had imbi^* 
bed solid principles, and a character of probity. I knew 
their value ; and I made a solemn engagement with 
myself never to depart from them. 

I had not long returned from Burlington before our 
printing materials arrived from London. I settled my 
accounts with Keimer, and quitted him, with his own 
consent, before he had any knowledge of our plan. We 
found a house to let near the market. We took it; and 
to render the rent less bvirthensome (it wf^n tlien twen- 
ty-four poiinds a year, but I have since k:>cwn it lf;t for 
sijveiiiy) we admitted Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, with 
his family, who eased Ub of a considerable part of it i 
and with him we agreed to board. 

We had no sooner unpacked our letter, and put our 
press in order, than a person of my acquaintance^ 
George House, brought us a couniryman, whom he had 
met in the streets enquiring for a printer. Our money 
was almost exhausted by the number of things we had 
been obliged to procure. The five shillings we receiv* 
ed from this countryman, the first fruit of our earnings, 
coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any 
sum I have since gained ; and the recollection of the 
gratitude I felt on this occasion to George House, has 
rendered me often more disposed, than perhaps I should 
otherwise have been, to encourage young beginners in 
trade. 

There are in every country morose beings, who are 
always prognosticating ruin. There was one of this 
stamp in Philddelphia. He was a man of fortune, de- 
clined in years, had an air of wisdom, and a very grave 
manner of speaking. His name was Samuel Mickle. I 
knew him not ; but he stopped one day at my door, and 
asked me if I was the young man who had lately open- 
ed a new printing house Upon my answering in the 
affirmative, he said that he was very sorry for me, as it 
was an expensive undertaking ; and the money that had 
been laid out upon it would be lost, Philadelphia being 



DR. FRANKLIX. 75 

a place falling into decay ; its inhabitants having all, or 
nearly all of them, been obliged to call together their 
creditors. That he knew from undoubted fuct, the cir- 
cumstances which might lead us to suppose the con- 
trary, such as new buildings, and the advaticed price of 
rent, to be deceitful appearances, vrhich in reality con- 
tributed to hasten the general ruin ; and he gave me so 
long a detail of rnisfortunes, actually existing, or which 
were soon to take place, that he left me almost in a state 
of^,despair. Had I known this man before I entered 
into trade, I should doubtless never have ventured. — 
He however continued to live in this place of decay, 
and t^ declaim in the same style, refusing for many 
years to buy a house, because all was going to wreck ! 
and in the end I had the satisfaction to see him pay five 
times as much for one as it would cost him had he pur- 
chased it when he first began his lamentations. 

I ought to have related that, during the autumn of 
the preceding year, I had united the majority of v/eil- 
informed persons of my acquaintance into a club, which 
we called by the name of the Junto^ and the object of 
which was to improve our understandings. We met 
every Friday evening. The regulations I drev/ up, 
obliged every member to propose in his turn, one or 
more questions upon some point of morality, politics, 
or philosophy, which v/ere to be discussed by the so- 
ciety ; and to read^ once in three months, an essay of 
bis own composition, on whatever subject he pleased. 
Our debates were under the direction of a president, 
and v/ere to be dictated only by a sincere desire of truth; 
the pleasure of disputing, and the vanity of triumph 
having no share in the business ; and in order to pre- 
vent undue warmth, every expression which implied 
obstinate adherence to an opinion, and all direct contra- 
diction, were prohibited, under small pecuniary pen- 
alties. 

The first members of our club was Joseph Breint- 
nal, svhose occupation was that of a scrivene^. He 
was a middle-aged man, of a good natural disposition^ 

G 



74 LIFE OF 

strongly attached to his friends, a great lover of poetry, 
reading every thing that came in his way, and w^riting 
tolerably well, ingenious in many little trifles, and of an 
agreeable conversation. 

Thomas Godfrey, a skilful, though self-taught ma- 
thematician, and who was afterwards the inventor of 
what now goes by the name of Hadley's dial ; but he 
had little knowledge out of his own line, and was in- 
supportable in company, always requiring, like the ma- 
jority of mathematicians that have fallen in my way, an 
unusual precision in every thing that is said, continu- 
ally contradicting, or making trifling distinctions ; a 
sure way of defeating all the ends of conversationr He 
very soon left us. 

Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, and who had became af- 
terwards surveyor general. He was fond of books and 
wrote verses. 

William Parsons, brought up to the trade of a shoe- 
maker and who having a taste for reading, had acquir- 
ed a profound knowledge of mathematics. He first stu- 
died them with a view to astrology, and was afterwards 
the first to laugh at his folly. He also became survey- 
or-general. 

William Mawgridge, a joiner, and very excellent 
mechanic ; and in other respects a man of solid under- 
standing. 

Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb, 
of whom I have already spoken. 

Robert Grace, a young man of fortune ; generous, 
aniniated and witty ; fond of epigrams, but more fond 
of his friends. 

Ana lastly, William Coleman, at that time a mer- 
chant's clerk, and nearly of my own age* He had a 
cooler and clearer head, a better heart, and more scru- 
pulous morals, than almost any other person I have 
ever met with. He became a very respectable mer- 
chant, and one of our provincial judges. Our friend- 
ship subsisted, without interruption, for more than 



DR. FRANKLIN. 75 

forty years, till the period of his death ; and the club 
continued to exist almost as long. 

Tills was the best school of politics and philosophy 
that then existed in the province ; for our questions, 
which we read a week previous to their discussion, in- 
duced us to peruse attentively such books as were writ- 
ten upon the subjects proposed, that we might be able 
to speak upon them more pertinently. We thus ac- 
quired the habit of conversing more agreeably ; every 
object being discussed conformably to our regulations, 
and in a manner to prevent mutual disgust. — To this 
circumstance may be attributed the long duration of 
the club ; which 1 shall have frequent occasion to men- 
tion as I proceed. 

I have introduced it here, as being one of the means 
on which I had to count for success in my business ; 
every member exerting himself to procure work for 
us Breintnal, among others, obtained for us, on the 
part of the Quakers, the printing of forty sheets of their 
history ; of which the rest was to be done by Keimer. 
Our execution of this work was by no means masterly ; 
as the price was very low. It was in folio, upon fira 
fiatria paper, and in the fiica letter, with heavy notes in 
the smallest type. I composed a sheet a day and Mere- 
dith put it to press. It was frequently eleven o'clock 
at night, sometimes later, before I had finished my dis- 
tribution for the next day's task ; for the little things 
which our friends occasionally sent us, kept us back in 
this work: but I was so determined to compose a sheet 
a day, that one evening when my form was imposed, 
and my day's work, as I thoi^ght, at an end, an accident 
having broken this form, and deranged two complete 
folio pages, 1 immediately distributed, and composed 
them anew before I went to bed. 

This unwearied industry, which was perceived by 
our neiglibours, began to acquire us reputation and 
credit. I learned, among other things, that our new 
printing-house being the subject of conversation at a 
club of merchants who met every evening, it was the 



76 LIFE OF 

general opinion it would fail ; there being already two 
printing houses in the town, Keimer's and Bradford's. 
But Dr. Bi;rd, whom you and I had occasion to see, 
many years after, at his native town of St. Andrews in 
Scotland was of a different opinion. " The industry 
of this Franklin (said he) is superior to any thing of the 
kind I have ever witnessed I see him still at work 
when I return from the club at night, and he is at it 
again in the morning before his neighbours are out of 
l)ed." This account struck the rest of the assembly, 
and shortly after one of its members came to our house, 
and offered to supply us with articles of stationary ; but 
we wished not as yet to embarrass ourselves with keep- 
ing a shop. It is not for the sake of applause that I 
enter so freely into the particulars of my industry, but 
that such of my descendants as shall read these me- 
moirs may know the use of this virtue, by seeing in the 
recital of my life the effects it operated in my favour. 

George Webb, having found a friend who lent him 
the necessary sum to buy out his time of Keimer, came 
one day to offer himself to us as a journeyman. We 
could not employ him immediately ; but 1 foolishly told 
him, under the rose, that I intended shortly to publish 
a new periodical paper, and that we should then have 
work for him. My hopes of success, which I imparted to 
him, were founded on the circumstance, that the only 
paper we had in Philadelphia at that time, and which 
Bradford printed, was a paltry tiling, miserably con- 
ducted, in no respect amusing, and which yet was pro- 
fitable. I consequently supposed that a good work of 
this kind couid not flui of success. Webb betrayed my 
secret to Keimer, v/ho, to prevent me, immediately 
published the Frccptctus of a paper that he intended 
to institute himself, and in wLich Webb was to be en- 
gaged. 

I was exasperated at tl.is ) proceeding, and, with a 
view to counteract t!>em, not being able at present to 
institute my own paper, 1 wrote some humourous pie- 



DR. FRANICUK. 77 

ces in Bradford's under the title of the Busy Body* ; 
and which was continued for several months by Brient- 
nal. I hereby fixed the attention of the public upon 
Bradford's paper ; and the fi7'os/iectusof^ Keimcr, which 
we turned into ridicule, was treated with contempt.^ — • 
He began, notwithstanding, his paper ; and after conti- 
nuing it for nine months, having at most not more than 
ninety subscribers, he offered it me for a n\ere trifl'c. 
I had for some time been ready for such an engage- 
ment ; I therefore instantly took it upon myself, and 
in a few years it proved extremely profitable to mc. 

I perceive that I am apt to speak in the first person, 
though our partnership still continued. It is, perhaps, 
because, in fact, the whole business devolved upon me. 
Meredith was no compositor, and but an indifferent 
pressman ; and it was rarely that he abstained from hard 
drinking. My friends were sorry to see me connected 
with him ; but I contrived to derive from it the utmost 
advantage the case admitted. 

Our first number produced no other effect than any 
other paper which had appeared in the province, as to 
type and printing ; but some remarks, in my peculiar 
style of writing, upon the dispute which then prevailed 
between governor Burnet, and the Massachusetts as: 
sembly, struck somi persons as above mediocrity, caus- 
ed the paper and its editors to be talked of, and in a few 

weeks induced them to become our subscribers ^ 

Many others followed their example ; and our subscript 
tion continued to increase. This was one of the first 
good effects of the pains I had taken to learn to put niy 
ideas on paper. I derived this farther advantage from 
it, tliat the leading men of the place, seeing in the au- 
thor of this publication a man so well able to use his 
pen, thought it right to patronise and encourage me. 

The votes, laws, and other public pieces, were print- 
ed by Bradford. An address of the house of assembly 

* A manuscript note in the file of the Anneincan Mei-ciirv 
preserved in the Philadelphia library, says, that Fraiikilh 
wrote the first five numbers, and part of the ei^'hih- 

G 2 



Ys Ltr£ or 

to the goyernor bad been executed by him in a very 
coarse and incorrect manner. We reprinted it with 
accuracy and neatness, and sent a copy to every mem- 
ber. They perceived the difference ; and it so strength- 
ened the influence of our friends in the assembly, that 
we were nominated its printer for the following yean 

Among these friends I ought not to forget one mem- 
ber in particulij.r, Mr. Hamilton^ whom I have menti- 
oned in a former part of my narrative, and who was now 
returned from England. He warmly interested him- 
self for me on this occasion, as he did likewise on ma- 
ny others afterwards ; having continued his kindness 
to me till his death. 

About this per.od Mr. Vernon reminded me of the 
debt I owed him, but without pressing me for payment. 
I wrote him a handsome letter on the occasion, beg'- 
ging him to wait a little longer, to which he consented ; 
and as soon as I was able I paid him principal and in- 
terest, with many expressions of gratitude ; so that this 
error in my life was in a manner atoned for. 

put another trouble nov/ happened to me, which I 
had not the smallest reason to expect. Meredith's fa- 
ther, who, according to our agreement, was to defray 
the whole expcnce of our planting materials, had only 
paid one hundred pounds. Another hundred was still 
due, and the merchant being tired of waiting, commen- 
•^ed a suit against us. We bailed the action, but with 
the melancholy prospect, that, if the money was not 
forth coming at the time fixed, the affair would come 
lo issue, judgment be put in execution, our delightful 
}iopes be annihilated, and ourselves entirely ruined ; 
as the types and press must be sold, perhaps at half their 
value, to pay the debt. 

In this distress, two real friends, whose generous 
conduct I have never forgotten, and never shall forget 
while I retain the remembrance of any thing, came to 
me separately, without the knowledge of each other, 
and without my having applied to them. Each offer- 
ed 10 me whatever sum might be necessary, to take 



DR. FRANKLIN, 79 

the business into my own hands, if the thing; was prac- 
ticable, as they did not like 1 should continue in part- 
nership with Meredith, who, they said was frequently 
seen drunk in the streets, and gambling at ale houses, 
which very miuch injured our credit. These friends 
were William Coleman and Robert Grace. I told them 
that while there remained any probability that the 
Merediths would fulfil their part of the compact, I 
could not propose a separation as I conceived myself 
to be under obligations to them for v/hat they had 
done already, and were still disposed to do if they had 
the power : but in the end, should they fail in their en- 
gagement, and our partnership be dissolved, I should 
then think myself at liberty to accept the kindness of 
my friends. 

Things remained for some time in this state. At 
last I said one day to my partner, " Your father is per- 
haps dissatisfied with your having a share only in the 
business, and is unwilling to do for two, what he would 
do for you alone. Tell me frankly if that be the case, 
and I will resign the whole to you, and do for myself 
as w^ell as I can." — " No (said he) my father has really 
been disappointed in his hopes ; he is not able to pay, 
and I wish to put him to no further ineonvenience.-— 
I see that I am not at all calculated for a printer ; I was 
educated as a farmer, and it was absurd in me to 
come here, at thirty years of age, and bind myself ap- 
prentice to a new trade. Many of ray countrymen are 
going to settle in North Carolina, where the soil is ex- 
ceedingly favourable. I am tempted to go with them, 
and to resume my former occupation. You will doubt- 
less find friends that will assist you. If you will take 
upon yourself the debts of the partnership, return my 
faiher the hundred pounds he has advanced, pay my 
little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds and a 
new saddle, 1 will renounce the partnership, and con- 
sign over the whole stock to you." 

r accepted this proposal without hesitation. It was 
committed to paper; and signed and sealed without de- 



80 LIFE OF 

lay. I gave him what he demanded and he departed 
soon after for Carolina, from whence he sent me, in 
the following year, two long letters, containing the 
best accounts that had yet been given of that country, 
as to climate, soil, agriculture, See. for he was well 
Tersed in these matters. I published them in my 
newspaper, and they were received with great satisfac- 
tion. 

As soon as he was gone, I applied to my two friends, 
and not wishing to give a disobligiug preference to 
either of them, I accepted from each half what he had 
offered me, and which it was necessary I should have. 
I paid the partnership debts, and continued the business 
on my own account; taking care to inform the public, 
by advertisement, of the partnership being dissolved. 
This was I think, in the year 1729, or thereabout. 

Nearly at the same period the people demanded a 
new emission of paper money ; the existing and only 
one that had taken place in the province, which amount- 
ed to fifteen thousand pounds, being soon to expire.— 
The wealthy inhabitants, prejudiced against every sort 
of paper currency, from the fear of its depreciation, of 
which there had been an instance in the province of 
New-England, to the injury of its holders, strongly op- 
posed the measure. We had discussed this affair in 
our junto, in which I was on the side of the new ernis* 
sion ; convinced that the first small sum fabricated in 
1723, had done much good in the province, by favour- 
ing commerce, industry and population, since all the 
houses were now inhabited, and ir.any others building 
whereas I remembered to have seen, when first I para- 
ded the streets of Philadelphia eating my roll, the ma- 
jority of those in Walnut-street, Second-street, Fourth- 
street, as well as a great number in Chesnut and other 
streets, with papers on them signifying that they were 
to be let ; which made me think at the time that the 
inhabitants of the town v/cre deserting it one after an- 
other. 



DR. FRANKLIN. 81 

Our debates- made me so fully master of.the subject, 
that 1 ^\ rote and published an anonymous pamphlet, 
entitled. An Enquiry into the Nv^ture and Necessity of 
a Paper Currency. It was very well received by the 
lower and middling class of people ; but it displeased 
the opulent, as it increased the clamour in favour of 
the new emission. Having, however, no writer among 
them capable of answering it, their opposition became 
less violent; and their being in the house of assembly 
a majority for the measure, it passed. Tne friends I 
Jhad acquired in the house, persuaded that I had done 
the country essential service on this occasion, reward- 
ed me by giving me the printing of the bills. It was a 
lucrative employment, and proved a very seasonable 
help to me ; another advantage which I derived from 
having habituated myself to write. 

Time and experience so fully demonstrated the utili- 
ty of paper currency, that it never after experienced 
any considerable opposition ; so that it soon amounted 
to 65,0001. and in the year 1739 to 80.0001. It has 
since risen, during the last wt.r, to 350,0001. trade, 
buildings and population having in the interv. 1 contin- 
ualiy increased ; but I am now convinced that there 
are limits beyond v/hich paper money would be preju- 
dicial. 

I soon after obtained, by the influence of my friend 
Hamilton, the priming of the Newcastle paper moi y, 
another profitable work, as I then thought it, iittie 
things appearing great to persons of moderate fortune ; 
and they were really great to me, as proving great en- 
couragements. He also procured me the printing of 
the laws and votes of that government which I retained 
as long as I continued in the business. 

I now opened a small stationer's shop. I kept bonds 
and agreements of all kinds, drawn up in a more accu- 
rate form than had yet been seen in that part of the 
world ; a work in which I was assisted by my friend 
Brientnal. I had also paper, ::;arcl.ment, pasteboard, 
books, &;c. One Whiteuiush, un excellent compositor, 



^2 UFE OF 

whom I had known in London, came to oflPer himself. 
I engaged him, and he continued constantly and dili- 
gently to work v/ith me. 1 also took an apprenticcj 
the son of Aquila Rose. 

I began to pay, by degrees, the debt 1 had contract* 
ed ; and in order to insure my credit and character as 
a tradesman, I took care not only to be ideally industri* 
ous and frugal, but also to avoid every appearance of 
the contrary. I was plainly dressed, and never seen in 
any place of public amusement. I never went a fish- 
ing nor hunting : A book indeed enticed me sometimes 
from my work, but it was seldom, by stealth, and occa- 
sioned no scandal ; and to show that I did not think 
myself above my profession, 1 conveyed home some- 
times on a wheelbarrow the paper I purchased at the 
warehouses. 

I thus obtained the reputation of being an industrious 
young man, and very punctual in my payments. The 
merchants who imported articles of stationary solicited 
my custom ; others offered to furnish me with books, 
and my little trade went on prosperously. 

Meanwhile the credit and business oi Keimer dimin- 
ished every day, he was at last forced to sell his stock 
to satisfy his creditors; and he betook himself to Bar- 
badoes, where he lived for some time in a very empov- 
erished state. His apprentice, Duvid Harry, whom I 
had instructed while I worked with Keimer, having 
bought his materials, succeeded him in the business.— 
I was apprehensive, at first, of finding in Harry a pow- 
erful competitor, as he was allied to an opulent and 
respectable family ; I therefore proposed a partnership, 
wiiich, happily for me he rejected with disdain. He 
Was extremely proud, thought himself a fine gentleman, 
lived extravagantly and pursued amusements which 
suffered him to be scarcely ever at home ; of conse- 
quence, he became in debt, neglected his business, and 
business neglected him. Finding in a short time no- 
thing to do in the country, he followed Keimer to Bar- 
badoes; carrying his printing materials with him.— 



DR. FRANKLIN. ^ 

There the apprentice employed his old master as a 
journeyman. They were continually quarrelling; and 
Harry still getting in debt, was obliged at last to sell 
his press and types, and return to his old occupation of 
.husbandry in Pennsylvania. The person who purcha- 
sed them employed Keimer to manage the business, but 
he died a few years after. 

I had now at Philadelphia no competitor but Brad- 
ford, who, being in easy circumstances, did not engage 
m the prmting of books, except now and then as work- 
men chanced to offer themselves ; and was not anxiouj 
to extend his trade. He had, however, one advantage 
over, me, as he had the direction of the post-office, and 
was of consequence supposed to have better opportuni- 
ties of obtaining news. His paper was also supposed 
io be more advantageous to advertising customers ; and 
m consequence of that supposition, his advertisements 
were much more numerous than mine : this was a 
source of great profit to him, and disadvantageous to 
me. It was to no purpose that I really procured other 
papers, and distributed my own, by means of the post ; 
the public took for granted my inability in this respect ; 
and I was indeed unable to conquer it in any other 
mode than by bribing the post-boys, who served me on- 
ly by stealth, Bradford being so illiberal as to forbid 
them. — This treatment of his excited my resentment ; 
and my disgust was so rooted, that, when I afterwards 
succeeded him in the post-office, I took care to avoid 
copying his example. 

I had hitherto continued to board with Godfrey, who 
with his wife and children, occupied part of my house, 
*nd half of the shop for his business ; at which indeed 
he worked very little, being always absorbed by math- 
amatics. Mrs. Godfrey formed a wish of marrying me 
to the daughter of one of her relations. She contrived 
various opportuniues of bringing us together, till she 
saw that I was captivated ; which was not difficult, the 
lady in question possessing great personal merit. The 
parents encouraged my addresses, by inviting me con- 



84 LIFE OF 

tinually to supper, and leaving us together, till at k'st 
it was time to come to an explanation. Mrs. Godfrey 
undertook to negociate our little treaty. I gave her to 
understand, that I expected to receive with the young 
lady a sum of money that would enable me at least to 
discharge the remainder of my debt for my printing 
materials- It was then, I believe, not more than a hun- 
dred pounds. She brought me for answer, that they 
had no such sum at their disposal. 1 observed that it 
might easily be obtained, by a mortgage on their house. 
The reply of this was, after a few days interval, that 
they did not approve of the match ; that they had con- 
sulted Bradford, and found that the business of a prin- 
ter was not lucrative ; that my letters would soon be 
worn out, and must be supplied by new ones ; that Kei- 
mer and Harry had failed, and that, probably, I should 
do so too. Accordingly they forbade me the h iuse, 
and the young lady was confined. I know not if they 
had really changed their minds, or if it was merely an 
artifice, supposing our affections to be too far engaged 
for VIS to desist, and that we should contrive to marry- 
secretly, which would leave them at liberty to give or 
not as they pleased. But, suspecting this motive, I 
never went again to their house. 

Some time after Mrs. Godfrey informed me that they 
were favourably disposed towards me, and wished me 
to renew the acquaintance ; but 1 declared a firm reso- 
lution never to have any thing more to do with the fa* 
mily. The Godfreys expressed some resentment at 
this ; and as we could no longer agree, they changed 
their residence, leaving me in possession of the whole 
bouse. I then resolved to take no more lodgers. This 
affuir having turned my thoughts to marriage, I looked 
around me, and made overtures of alliance in other 
quarters ; but I soon found that the profession of a prin- 
ter being generally looked upon as a poor trade, I could 
expect no moiiey with a wife, at least if 1 wished her to 
possess any other charm. Meanwhile, that passion of , 
youlh^ so difficult to govern, had often di^awn me into 



DR. FRANKLIN. 85 

iBtrigiTCS with despicabie women who fell in my way ; 
which were not unaccompanied with expence and in- 
convenience, besides the perpetual risk of injuring my 
health, and catching a disease which I dreaded above 
all things. But I was fortunate enough to escape this 
danger. 

As a neighbour and old acquaintance, I kept up a 
^ friendly intimacy with the family of Miss Read. Her 
parents had retahied an affection for me from the time 
of my lodging in their house. I was often invited thith- 
er ; they consulted me about their affairs, and I had 
been sometimes serviceable to them. I was touched 
with the unhappy situation of their daughter, who was 
almost always melancholy, and continually seeking soli- 
tude. I regarded my forgetfulness and inconstancy, 
during my abode in London, as the principal cause of 
her misfortune ; though her mother had the candour 
to attribute the fault to herself, rather than to me, be- 
cause, after having prevented our marriage previous to 
my departure, she had induced her to marry another in 
my absence. 

Our mutual affection revived ; but there existed 
great obstacles to our union. Her marriage was con- 
sidered indeed, as not being valid, the man having, it 
was said, a former wife still living in England ; but of 
this it was difficult to obtain a proof at so great a dis- 
tance ; and though a report prevailed of his being dead, 
yet we had no certainty of it ; and supposing it to be 
true, he had left m^ny debts, for the payment of which 
his successor miii^ht be sued. We ventured, neverthe- 
less, in spite of all these difficulties, and I married her 
on the first of September 1730. None of the inconve- 
niences we had feared happened to us. She proved to 
me a good and faithful companion, and contributed es- 
sentially to the success of my shop. We prospered- 
together, and it was our mutual study to render each 
other happy. Thus I corrected, as well as I couldj this 
great error of my youth. 

a 



86 LIFE OF 

Our club was not at that time established at a tavern. 
We held our meetings at the house of Mr. Grace, who 
appropriated a room to the purpose. Some members 
observed one day, that as our books were frequently 
quoted in the course of our discussions, it would be 
convenient to have them collected in the room in which 
we assembled, in order to be consulted upon occasion ; 
and that, by thus forming a common library of our in- 
dividual collections, each would have the advantage of 
using the books of all the other members, which would 
nearly be the same as if he possessed them himself. — 
The idea was approved, and we accordingly brought 
such books as we thought we could spare, which were 
placed at the end of the club-room. They amounted 
not to so many as v/e expected ; and though we made 
considerable use of them, yet some inconveniences re- 
sulting, from want of care, it was agreed, after about a 
year, to destroy the collection ; and each took away 
such books as belonged to him. 

It was now that I first started the idea of establishing 
by subscription, a public library. I drew up the pro- 
posals, had them ingrossed in form by Brockden the 
attorney, and my project succeeded, as will be seen in 

•4l-»p,^<l»-»|'«/-«l T^ 2^ ^ * W ^ ^ ^ ¥f TF TF W ^ 5|c Tf! ^ ^ f^ 

[The life of Dr. Franklin, as written by himself, so 
far as it has yet been communicated to the world, breaks 
off in this place. We understand that it was continu- 
ed by him somewhat further and we hope that the re- 
mainder will, at some future period, be communicated 
to the public. We have no hesitation in supposing 
that every reader will find himself greatly interested 
by the frank simplicity and the philosophical discern- 
ment by which these pages are so eminently character- 
ized. We have therefore thought proper, in order as 
much as possible to relieve his regret, to subjoin the 
following continuation, by one of the doctor's intimate 
friends. It is extracted from an Americsui periodical 



DR. FRANKLIN. S7 

publication, and was written by the late Dr. Stuber* of 
Philadelphia.] 



THE promotion of literature had been little attend- 
ed to in Pennsylvania. Most of the inhabitants were 
too much immersed in business to think of scientific 
pursuits ; and those few, whose inclinations led then^ 
to study, found it difficult to gratify them, from the 
want of sufficiently large libraries. In such circum- 
stances, the establishment of a public library was au 
important event. This was first set on foot by Frank- 
lin, about the year 173 1. Fifty persons subscribed for- 
ty shillings each, and agreed to pay ten shillings annu- 
ally. The number increased ; and in 1742, the com- 
pany was incorporated by the name of " The Library 
Company of Philadelphia." Several other companies 
were formed in this city in imitation of it. These were 
all at length united with the library company of Phila* 



* Dr. Stuber was born in Phlladelpiiia) of German parents. 
He was sent, at an early age, to the university, where his 
genius, diligence, and amiable temper soon acquired him the 
particular notice and favour of those under whose immediate 
direction he was placed. After passing through the commoji 
course of study, in a much shorter time than usual, he left 
the university, at the age of sixteen, with great repatation. 
Not long after, he entered on the study of physic ; and the 
zeal with which he pursued it, and the advances he made, 
gave his friends reason to form the most flattering prospects 
of his future eminence and usefulness in the profession. As 
Dr. Stuber's circumstances were very moderate, he did not 
think his pursuit well calculated to answer them. He there- 
fore relinquished it, after he had obtained a degree in the 
profession, and qualified himself to practice with credit and 
success : and immediately entered on the study of Law. lu 
pursuit of thedast-mentioned object, he was prematurely ar- 
rested, before he had an opportunity of reaping the fruits of 
those talents with which he was endowed, and of a youth spent 
in the ardent and successful pursuit of useful and elegaiit lit 
erature. 



88 LIFE OP 

delphia, whicU thus received a considerable accession 
of books and property. It now contains about eight 
thousand volumes on ull subjects, a philosophical appa- 
ratus, and a good beginning tov^^ards a collection of na- 
tural and artificial curiosities, besides landed property 
of considerable value. The company have lately built 
an elegant house in Fifth-street, in the front of which 
will be erected a marble statue of iheir founder, Ben- 
jamin Franklin. 

This institution was gi^atly encouraged by the friends 
©f Literature in America and in Great Britain. The 
Penn family distinguished themselves by their dona» 
lions. Among the earliest friends of this institution 
rnust be mentioned the late Peter Collinson, the friend 
and correspondent of Dr. Franklin. He not only made 
considerable presents himself, and obtained others 
from his friends, but voluntarily undertook to manage 
the business of the company in London, recommending 
books, purchasing and shipping them. His extensive 
knowledge, and zeal for the promotion of science, ena- 
bled him to execute this important trust with the great- 
est advantage. He continued to perform these servi- 
ces for more than thirty years, and uniformly refused 
to except of any compensation. During this time, he 
communicated to the directors every information re- 
lative to improvements and discoveries in the arts, agri- 
culture, and philosopiiy. 

The beneficial influence of this institution was soon 
evident. The cheapness of terms rendered it accessi- 
ble to every one. Its advantages were not confined to 
the opulent. The citizens in the middle and lower 
walks of life were equally partakers of them. Hence 
a degree of information was extended amongst all clas- 
ses of people, which is very unusual in other places. 
The example was soon followed. Libraries were es- 
tablished in various places, and they are now become 
very numerous in the United States, and particularly 
in Pennsylvania. It is to be hoped that they will be 
still more more widely extended, and that informauon 



DR. FR\NKLt!?. t 89 

will be every were increased. This will be the best 
security for iTiaintaining our liberties. A nation of well- 
informed men, who have been taught to know and prize 
the rights which God had given them cannot -be ensla- 
ved. It is the regions of ignorance that tyranny reigns. 
It flies before the light of science. — Let the citizens of 
America, then, encourage institutions calculated to dif- 
fuse knowledge amongst the people ; and amongst these, 
public libraries are not the least important. 

In 1732, Franklin began to publish poor Richard's 
Almanack. This was remarkable for the numerous 
and valuable concise maxims which it contained, all 
tending to exhort to industry and frugality. It was 
continued for many years. In the almanack for the last 
year, all the maxims were collected in an address to the 
reader, entitled. The Way to Wealth. This has been 
translated in various languages, and inserted in differ- 
ent publications. It has also been printed on a large 
sheet, and may be seen framed in many houses in this 
city. This address contains, perhaps the best practi- 
cal system of oeconomy that ever has appeared. It is 
written in a manner intelligible to every one, and which 
cannot fail of convincing every reader of the justice and 
propriety of the remarks and advice which it con- 
tains. The demand for this almanack was so great, 
that ten thousand have been sold in one year; which 
must be considered as a very large number, especially 
when we reflect, that this country was, at that time^ 
but thinly peopled. It cannot be doubted that the sa- 
lutary maxims contained in these almanacks must have 
made a favourable impression upon many of the rea- 
ders of them. 

It was not long before Franklin entered upon his po- 
litical career. In the year 1736 he was appointed clerk 
to the general assembly of Pennsylvania ; and was re- 
elected by succeeding assemblies for several years un- 
til he was chosen a representative for the city of Phi- 
ladelphia. 



90 LIFE OV 

Bradford was possessed of some advantages over 
Frankhn, by being post-master, thereby having an op- 
portmiity of circulating his paper more extensively^ 
and thus rendering it a better- vehicle for advertise- 
ments, £cc. Franklin in his turn, enjoyed these advan- 
tages, by being appointed post-master of Philadelphia 
in 1737. Bradford, while in office, had acted ungene* 
rously towards Franklin, preventing as much as pos- 
sible the circulation of his paper. He had now an op- 
portunity of retaliating ; but his nobleness of soul pre- 
vented him from making use of it. 

The police of Philadelphia had early appointed 
watchmen, whose duty it was to guard the citizens 
against the midnight robber, and to give an immediate 
alarm in case of Sre. This duty is, perhaps, one of the 
most important that can be committed to any set of 
men. The regulations, however, were not sufficiently 
strict. Franklin saw the dangers arising from this 
^ ause, and suggested an alteration, so as to oblige the 
guardians of the night to be more watchful over the 
lives and property of the citizens. The propriety of 
this vras immediately perceived, and a reform was ef- 
fectied. 

There is nothing more dangerous to growing cities 
than fires. Other causes operate slowly, and almost 
imperceptibly ; but these in a moment render abortive 
the labours of ages. On this account there should be 
in all cities, ample provisions to prevent fires from 
spreading. Franklin early saw the necessity of these ; 
and, about the year 1738, formed the first fire-company 
in this city. This example was soon followed by others ; 
and there are now numerous fire companies in this ci» 
ty and liberties. To these may be attributed in a great 
degree the activity of extinguishing fires, for which 
the citizens of Philadelphia are distinguished, and the 
inconsiderable damage which this city has sustained 
Irom this cause. Some time after, Franklin suggested 
the plan of an association for insuring houses from los- 
iies by fire, which was adopted ; and the associatioa 



DR. FRANKLIN. 91 

continues to this day. The advantages experienced 
from it have been great. 

From the first establishment of Pennsylvania a spirit 
of dispute appears to have prevailed amongst its inha- 
bitants. During the life time of William Penn, the 
constitution had been three times altered. After this 
period, the History of Pennsylvania is little else than a 
recital of the quarrels between the proprietaries, or 
their governors and the assembly. The proprietaries 
contended for the right of exempting their land from 
taxes ; to which the assembly vv^ould by no means con* 
sent. This subject of dispute interfered in almost 
every question, and prevented the most salutary law& 
from being enacted. This at times subjected the peo- 
ple to great inconveniences. In the year 1744, during 
a war between France and Great Britain, some French 
and Indians had made inroads upon the frontier inhabi-» 
tants of the province, who Avere unprovided for such 
an attack. It became necessary that the citizens should 
arm for their defence. Governor Thomas recommend- 
ed to the assembly, who were then sitting, to pass a 
militia law. To this they would agree only upon con- 
dition that he should give his assent to certain laws, 
which appeared to them calculated to promote the in- 
terest of the people. As he thought these laws would 
be injurious to the proprietaries, he refused his assent 
to them ; and the assembly broke up without passing 
a militia law. The situation of the province was at this 
time truly alarming : exposed to the continual inroads 
of an enemy, and destitute of every means of defence, 
At this crisis Franklin stepped forth, and proposed to 
a meeting of the citizens of Philadelphia, a plan of a 
voluntary association for the defence of the province. 
This was approved of, and signed by twelve hundred 
persons immediately. 

Copies of it were circulated throughout the province, 
and. in a short time the number of signers amounted to 
*en thousands Franklin was chosen colonel of the Phi- 



92 LIFE OP 

ladelphia regiment, but he did not think proper to ac* 
cept of the honor. 

Pursuits of a different nature now occupied the 
greatest part of his attention for some years. He en- 
gaged in a course of electrical experiments, with all 
the ardor and thirst for discovery which characterized 
the philosophers of that day. Of all the branches of 
experimental philosophy, electricity had been least ex- 
plored. The attractive power of amber is mentioned 
by Theophrastus and Pliny, and, from them, by later 
naturalists. In the year 1600, Gilbert, an English phy- 
sician, enlarged considerably the catalogue of substan- 
ces which have the property of attracting light bodies. 
Boyle, Otto Guericke, a burgomaster of Magdeburg, 
celebrated as the inventor of the air-pump, Dr. Wall, 
and Sir Isaac Newton added some facts. Guericke 
first observed the repulsive power of electricity, and 
the light and noise produced by it.-— In 1709, Hawkes- 
bec communicated some important observations and 
experiments, to the world. For several years electri- 
city was entirely neglected, until Mr. Gray applied 
himself to it, in 1728, with great assiduity. He, and 
his friend Mr. Wheeler, made a great variety of expe- 
riments ; in which they demonstrated, that electricity 
may be communicated from one body to another, even 
without being in contact, and in this way may be con- 
ducted to a great distance. Mr. Gray afterwards found, 
that, by suspending rods of iron by silk or hair lines, 
and bringing an excited tube under them, sparks might 
be drawn, and a light perceived at the extremities in 
the dark. M. Du Faye, intendantof the French Kiu^^'s 
gardens, made a number of experiments, which addftd 
not a little to the science. He made the discovery of 
two kinds of electricity, which he called vitreous and 
resinous ; the former produced by rubbing glass, the 
latter from excited sulphur, sealing-wax, &c. But this 
idea he afterv^^ards gave up as erroneous. Between the 
years 1739 and and 1742, Defaguliers made a number 
©f experiinentS; but added little of importance. He 



DR. FRANKLi:>7, 93 

first used the terms conductors and electrics^ fier sf.— * 
In 1742, several ingenious Germans engaged in the 
subject. Of these the principal were, professor Boze 
of Wittembergh, professor Winkler of Leipsic, Gor- 
don, a Scotch Benedictine monk, professor of philoso- 
phy at Eifurt, and Dr. Ludolf of Berlin. The result 
of their researches astonislied the philosophers of Eu- 
rope. — Their apparatus was large, and by means of it 
they were enabled to collect large quantities of electri- 
city, and thus to produce phenomena which had been 
hitherto unobserved. They killed small birds, and set 
spirits on fire. Their experiments excited the curi- 
osity of other philosophers. Collinson, about the year 
1745, sent to the library company of Philadelphia an 
account of these experiments, together with a tube, 
and directions how to use it. Franklin, with some of 
his friends, immediately engaged in a course of expe- 
rim.ents ; the result of which is well known. He was 
enabled to make a number of important discoveries, 
and to propose theories to account for various phen.o- 
mena; which have been universally adopted, and which 
bid fair to endure for ages. His observations he com- 
municated, in a series of letters to his friend Collin- 
son ; the first of which is di;ted March 28, 1747. In 
these he makes known the power of points in drawing 
and throwing off the electrical matter, which had hither- 
to escaped the notice of electricians. He also made 
the grand discovery of ^ plus and minus^ or oi^posU 
tive and negative state of electricity. We gave him 
the honor of this, without hesitation, although the En- 
glish have claimed it for their countryman, Dr. Wat- 
son. Watson's paper is dated January 21, 1748 ; Frank- 
lin's July 11, 1747 ; several months prior. Shortly af- 
ter, Franklin, from his principu s of plus and minus 
fstate, explained, in a satisfactoiy manner, tlie pheno- 
mena of the Leyden phial, first observed by JNIr Cun- 
eus, or by professor Muschenbroeck of Leyden, which 
had much perplexed philosophers. He shewed clear- 
ly that the bpttle, when charged, contained no more 



94 LIFE OP 

electricity than before, but that as much wa« taken 
from one side as was thrown on the other ; and that, to 
discharge it, nothing was necessary but to make a com- 
munication between the two sides, by which the equi- 
librium might be restored, and that then no signs of 
electricity would remain. He ufterv.'^rds ilemonsiruted 
by experiments, that the electricity did not reside in 
the coating, as had been supposed, but in the pores of 
the glass itself. After a phial was charged, he remov- 
ed the coating, and found that upon applying a new coat- 
ing the shock might still be received. In the year 
1749, he first suggested his idea of explaining the phe- 
nomena of thunder gusts, and of the aurora borealis, 
upon electrical principles. He points out many par- 
ticulars in which lightning and electricity agree ; and 
he adduces many facts, and reasoning from facts, in sup- 
port of his positions. In the same year he conceived 
the astonishingly bold and grand idea of ascertaining 
the truth of his doctrine, by actually drawing down the 
forked lightning, by means of sharp pointed iron rods 
raised into the region of the clouds. Even in this un- 
certain state, his passion to be useful to mankind dis- 
plays itself in a powerful manner. Admitting the 
identity of electricity and lightning, and knowing the 
power of points in repelling bodies charged with elec- 
tricity, and in conducting their fire silently and imper- 
ceptibly, he suggests the idea of securing houses, shipsi 
Sec. from being damaged by lightning, by erecting point- 
ed iron rods, which should rise some feet above the most 
elevated part, and descend some feet into the ground or 
the water. The effect of these, he concluded would 
be either to prevent a stroke by repelling the cloud be- 
yond the striking distance, or by drawing off the elec- 
trical fire which it contained ; or, if they could not ef- 
fect this, they would at least conduct the stroke to the 
earth, without any injury to the building. 

It was not until the summer of 1752, that he was ena- 
bled to complete his grand and unparalleled discovery 
by experiment. The plan w hich he had originally pro- 



DR. FRANKLIN. 9S 

posed, was, to erect on some high tower, Cr other ele- 
vated place, a centry box, from which should rise a 
pointed iron rod, insulated by being fixed in a cake of 
resin. Electrified clouds passing over this, would, he 
conceived, impart to it a portion of their electricity, 
which would be rendered evident to the senses by 
sparks being emitted, when a key, a knuckle, or other 
conductor, was presented to it. Philadelphia at this 
time afforded no opportuiiity of trying an experiment 
of this kind. Whilst Franklin was waiting for the 
erection of a spire, it occurred to him, that he might 
have more ready access to the region of clouds by means 
of a common kite. He prepared one by attaching two 
cross sticks to a silk handkerchief, which would not 
suffer so much from the rain as paper. To his upright 
stick was affixed an iron point. The string was, as 
usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk. 
Where the hempen string terminated, a key was fas- 
tened. With this apparatus, on the appearance of a 
thunder-gust approaching, he went into the commons, 
accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communi- 
cated his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, 
too generally for the interest of science, awaits unsuc- 
cessful experiments in philosophy. He placed himself 
under a shed to avoid the rain. His kite was raised. 
A thunder cloud passed over it. No signs of electri- 
city appeared. He almost despaired of success ; when 
suddenly he observed the loose fibres of his string to 
move towai'ds an erect position. He now presented his 
knuckle to the key, and received a strong spark. How 
exquisite must his sensations have been at this moment ! 
On this experiment depended the fate of his theory. 
If he succeeded, his name would rank high amongst 
those who have improved science ; if he failed, he 
must inevitably be subjected to the derision of m.an- 
kind, or, what is worse, their pity, as a well meaning 
man, but a weak, silly projector. The anxiety with 
which he.looked for the result of his experiment, may 
easily be conceived. Doubts and despair had begun to 



96 LIFE OP 

prevail, when the fact was ascertained in so clear a mait- 
ner, that even the most increcliiious could no longer 
withhold their assent. — Repeated sparks wert drawn 
from the key, a phial was charged, a shock given, and 
all the experiments made, which are usually perform- 
cd with electricity. 

Ahout a month before this period, some ingenious 
Frenchmen had completed the discovery, in the man- 
lier originally proposed by Dr. Franklin. The letters 
which he sent to Mr. Collinson, it is said, were refused 
a place amongst the papers of the Royal Society of Lon- 
don. However this may be, Collinson published them 
in a separate volume, under the title of JSTeiv ExfierU 
merits and Observations on Klectricity^ made at Phila^ 
delfihia^ in jlmerica. They were read with avidity, and 
'soon translated into different languages. A very incor- 
rect French translation fell into the hands of the cele- 
brated Buffon, w^ho notwithstanding the disadvantages 
under which the work labored, was much pleased with 
it, and repeated the experiments with success. He 
prevailed upon his friend, M. D'Alibard, to give his 
countrymen a more correct translation of the work of 
the American electrician This contributed much to- 
wards spreading a knowledge of Franklin's principles 
in France. The King, Louis XV. hearing of these ex- 
periments, expressed a wish to be a spectator of them. 
A course of experiments was given at the seat of the 
Due D' Aven, at St. Germain, by M. De Lor. The ap- 
plauses which the king bestowed upon Franklin, exci- 
ted in Buffon, D'Alibard, and De Lor, an earnest de- 
sire of ascertaining the truth of his theory of thunder- 
gusts. Buffon erected his apparatus on the tower of 
of Montbar. M. D'Alibard at Mary-la- ville, and De 
Lor at his house in the Estn^pade at Paris, some of the 
highest ground in that capital. D'Alibard's machine 
first shewed signs of electricity. On the 10th of May, 
1752, a thunder-cloud passed over it, in the absence of 
M. D'Alibard ; and a number of sparks were drawn 
from it by Coiffier, a joiner, with whom D'Alibard had 



DR. FRANKLIN. 97 

left directions how to proceed, and by IVI. Rauiet, the 
prior of Mary-la-ville. An account of this experiment 
was given to the Royal Academy of Sciences, in a me- 
moir, by M. D'Alibavdj dated May ISth, 1 752. On the 
i8th of May, M. De Lor proved equally successful with 
the apparatus erected at his own house. These dis- 
coveries soon excited the philosophers of other parts 
of Europe to repeat the experiment. Amongst these, 
none signalized themselves more than Father Beccaria 
of Turin, to whose observations science is much indebt- 
ed. Even the cold regions of Russia were penetrated 
by the ardor for discovery. Professor Richman bade 
fair to add much to the stock of knowledge on this sub- 
ject, when an unfortunate flash from his rod put a pe- 
riod to his existence. The friends of science will long 
remember with regret the admirable martyr to ele(?» 
tricity. 

« 

By these experiments Franklin's theory was estab- 
lished in the most firm manner. When the truth of 
it could no longer be doubted, the vanity of men en- 
deavored to detract from its merit. That an Ameri- 
can, an inhabitant of the obscure city of Philadelphia, 
the name of which was hardly knov/n, should be able 
to make discoveries, and to frame theories, which had 
escaped the notice of the enlightened philosophers of 
Europe was too mortifying to be admitted. He must 
certainly have taken the idea from somebody else. An 
American, a being of inferior order, make discoveries! 
Impossible. It was said, that the Abbe Nollet, in i 748, 
had suc-Q-ested the idea of the similarity of licchtnini^ 
and electricity, in his Lecons de Physique, It is true, 
that the Abbe mentions the idea, but he throws it out 
as a bare conjecture, and proposes no mode of ascer- 
taining the truth of it. He himself acknowledges, that 
Franklin first entertained the bold thought of bringing 
lightning from the heavens, by means of pointed rods 
fixed in the air. The similarity of electricity and light- 
ning is 30 strong, that we need not be surprised at no- 
tice being taken of it, as soon as electrical phenomena 

I 



98 LIFE OF 

became familiar. We find it meiuioned by Dr. Wall 
and Mr. Gray, while the science wa^ in its infancy. — 
But the honor of forming a regular theory of thunders- 
gusts, of suggesting a mode of determining the truth of 
it by experiments, and of putting these experiments in 
practice, and thus establishing his theory upon a firm 
and solid basis^ is incontestibly due to Franklin. D*Ali- 
bard, who made the experiments in France, says, that 
he only followed the track which Franklin had pointed 

4?Ut. 

It has been of late asserted, that the honor of com- 
pleting the experiment with the electrical kite, does 
not belong to Franklin. Some late English paragraphs 
have attributed it to some Freiichman, whose name 
they do not mention ; and the Abbe Bertholon gives 
it to M. De Romans, assessor to the presideal of Ne- 
rac ; the English paragraphs probably refer to the 
same person. But a very slight attention will convince 
us of the injustice of this procedure ; Dr. Franklin's 
experiment was made in June 1752; and his letter, 
giving an account of it, is dated October 19^ 1752, M. 
De Romans made his first attempt on the 14th Qf May 
1753, but was not successful until the 7th of June ; a 
year after Franklin had completed the discovery, and 
wl«en it was known to all the philosophers in Europe. 

Besides these great principles, Franklin's letters on 
electricity contain a number of facts and Itints, which 
have contributed greatly towards reducing this branch 
of knowledge to a science. His friend, Mr. Kinners- 
levj communicated to him a discovery of the different 
kinds of electricity excited by rubbing glass and sul- 
phur. This, we have said, was first observed^ oy M. 
Du Faye ; but it was for many years neglected. The 
philosophers v/ere disposed to account for the pheno- 
mena, rather from a difTerence in the quantity of elec- 
tricity collected ; and even Du Faye himself seems at 
last to have adopted this doctrine. Franklin at first 
entertained the same idea j but upon repeating the ex- 
perimeutsjhe perceived that Mr. Kianertley was right * 



BR. FRANKLIX. 99 

and that the vifreous and resinous electHcity of Du 
Faye were nothing more than the fiositive and negative 
states which he had before observed ; that the glass 
globe charged positively^ or increased the quantity of 
electricity on the prime conductor ; whilst the glob^J 
of sulphur diminished its natural quantity, or cbargecf 
negatively. These experiments and observations 
opened a new field for investigation, upon which elec- 
tricians entered with avidity ; and their labours have ad- 
ded much to the stock of our knowledge. 

In September, 1752, Franklin entered upon a course 
of experiments to determine the state of electricity in 
the clouds. From a number of experiments he form- 
ed this conclusion : ^< that the clouds of a thundergust 
are most commonly in a negative slate of electricity, but 
sometimes in a positive state ; and from this it follows, 
as a necessary consequence, " that, for the most part, 
in thunder- strokes, it is the earth that strikes into the 
clouds, and not the clouds that strike into the earth.'' 
The letter containing these observations is dated in 
September, 1753; and yet the discovery of ascending 
thunder has been said to be of a modern date, and lias 
been attributed to the Abbe Bartholon, who published 
his memoir on the subject in 1776. 

Franklin's letters have been translated into most of 
the European languages, and into Latin. In propor- 
tion as they have become known, his principles have 
been adopted. Some opposition was made to his theo- 
ries, particularly by the Abbe Nollet, who v/as, how- 
ever, but feebly supported; whilst the first philosophers 
of Europe stepped forth in defence of Franklin's prin- 
ciples ; among whom D'Aliliard and Beccaria were the 
most distinguished. The opposition has gradually ceas- 
ed, and the Franklinian system is now universally adopt- 
ed, where science flourishes. 

The important practical use which Franklin made 
of his discoveries, the securing of houses from injury 
by lightning, has been already mentioned. Pointed 
conductors arc now very common in America; but pre - 



iOO LIFE OF 

judice has hitherto prevented their g^eneral introduc- 
tion into Europe, notwithstanding the most undoubted 
proofs of their utility have been given. But mankind 
can with difficulty be brought to lay aside established 
practices, or to adopt new ones. And perhaps we have 
more reason to be surprised that a practice, however 
rational, which was proposed about forty years ago 
should in that time have been adopted in so man^ pla- 
ces, than that it has not universally prevailed. It is 
only by degrees that the great body of mankind can be 
led into nev/ practices, however salutary their tenden- 
cy. It i& now nearly eighty years since inoculation 
was introduced into Europe and America ; and it is 
so far from being general at present, that it will, per- 
haps, require one or two centuries to render it so. 

In the year 1745, Franklin published an account of 
his nevr invented Pennsylvania fire places, in which he 
minutely and accurately states the advantages and dis- 
advantages of different kinds of fire-places ; and endea- 
vours to shew that the one which he describes is to be 
preferred to any other. This contrivance has given 
vise to the open stoves now in general use ; which how- 
ever diPi'er from it in construction, particularly in not 
having an air-box at the back, through which a constant 
supply of air, v/armed in its passage, is thrown into the 
room. The advantages of this are, that a stream of 
warm air is continually Sowing into the room, less fuel 
is necessary to preserve a proper temperature, and the 
room may be so tightened as that no air may enter 
through cracks ; the consequences of which are colds, 
tooth-aches, Sec. 

Altiiough philosophy was a principalobjectof Frank- 
lin's pursuit for several years, he confined himself not 
to this. In the year 1747, he became a member of the 
general assembly of Pennsylvania, as a burgess for the 
city of Philadelphia. Warm disputes at this time sub- 
sisted between the assembly and the proprietaries; each 
contending for what they conceived to be their just 
rights. Franklin, a friend to the rights of man from 



DR. PRANKLI5f. 101 

his infancy, soon distinguished himself asja steady op- 
ponent of the unjust schemes of the proprietaries. He 
was soon looked up to as the head of the opposition ; 
and to him have been attributed many of the spirited 
replies of the assembly, to the messages of the gover« 
nors. His influence in the body was very great. This 
arose not from any superior powers of eloquence ; he 
spoke but seldom, and he never was known to make 
any thing like an elaborate harangue. His speeches 
often consisted of a single sentence, or of a well told 
story, the moral of which was always obviously to the 
point. He never attempted the flowry fields of orato- 
ry. His manner was plain and mild. His style in speak- 
ing was, like that of his writings, remarkably concise. 
With this plain manner, and his penetrating and solid 
judgment, he. was able to confound the most eloquent 
and subtle of his adversaries, to confirm the opinions 
of his friends, and to make converts of the unprejudiced 
who had opposed him. With a single observation, he 
has rendered of no avail an elegant and lengthy dis- 
course, and determined the fate of a question of im- 
portance. 

But he was not contented with thus supporting the 
rights of the people. He wished to render them per- 
manently secure, which can only be done by making 
their value properly known ; and this must depend up- 
on encreasing and extending information to every class 
of men. We have already seen that he was the foun- 
der of the public library, which contributed greatly to- 
wards improving the minds.of the citizens. But this 
was not sufficient. The schools then subsisting were 
in general of little utility. The teachers were men ill 
qualifie'd for the important duty which they had under- 
taken J and, after all, nothing more could be obtained 
than the rudiments of a common English education* 
Franklin drew up a plan of an Academy to be erected 
in the city of Philadelphia, suited to " the state of an- 
infant country ;*' but in this, as in all his plans, he con- 
£ned not his viev/s to the present lime only. He looked 

12 



\ 



102 UFE OP 

forward to the period when an institution on an enlarg*- 
ed plan would become necessary. With this view he 
considered his Academy as " a foundation for posteri- 
ty to erect a seminary of learning more extensive, and 
suitable to future circumstances.** In pursuance of 
this plan, the constitutions were drawn up and signed on 
the 13th of November 1749. In these tv/enty-four of 
the most respectable citizens of Philadelphia were nam- 
ed as trustees. In the choice of these, and in the for- 
raation of his plan, Franklin is said to have consulted 
chiefly with Thomas Hopkinson, Esq. Rev. Richard 
Peters, then secretary of the province, Tench Francis, 
Esq. attorney-general, and Dr. Phineas Bond. 

The following article shews a spirit of benevolence 
worthy of imitation ; and, for the honor of our city, we 
hope that it continues to be in force. 

^' In case of the hiability of the rector^ or any mas- 
ter, (established on the foundation by receiving a cer- 
tain salary) through sickness, or any other natural in- 
firmity, whereby he may be reduced to poverty, the 
trustees shall have power to contribute to his support, 
in proportion to his distress and merit, and the stock 
in their- hands." 

The last clause of the fundamental rules is express- 
ed in language so tender and benevolent, so truly pa- 
rental that it will do everlasting honor to the hearts 
and heads of the founders. 

^ It is hoped and expected, that the trustees will 
make it their pleasure, and in some degree their bu- 
siness, to visit the acaderr^y often ; to encourage and 
countenance the youth, countenance and assist the mas- 
ters, and by all means in their power advance the us6f 
fulness and reputation of the design ; that they will look 
on the students as, in some measure, their own children, 
treat them with familiarity and affection ; and when 
they have behaved well, gone through their studies^ 
and are to enter the world, they shall zealously unite, 
and make all the interest that can be made, to promote 
sm^ e^ttblish theiUj whether in busine^is, offices, m^rri;' 



DR. FRANKLIN. 103 

ages, or any other thing for their advantage, preferable 
to all other persons whatsoever, even of equal merit." 

The constitutions being signed and made public with 
the names of the gentlemen proposing themselves as 
trustees and founders, the design was so well approv- 
ed of by the public spirited citizens of Philadelphia, that 
the sum of eight hundred pounds per annum, for five 
years, was in the course of a few weeks subscribed for 
carrying the plan into execution ; and in the beginning 
of January following, (viz. 1750) three of the schools 
were opened, namely, the Latin and Greek schools, 
the Mathematical, and the English schools. In pur- 
suance of an article in the original plan, a school for 
educating sixty boys and thirty girls (in the charter 
since called the Charitable School) was opened, emd 
amidst all the diHiculties with which the trustees have 
struggled in respect to their funds, has still been con- 
tinued full for the space of forty years ; so that allow- 
ing three years education for each boy and girl admit- 
ed into it, which is the general rule, at least twelve 
hundred children have received in it the chief part of 
their education, who might otherwise, in a great mea- 
sure, have been left without the means of instruction. 
And many of those who have been thus educated, are 
now to be found among the most useful and reputable 
citizens of this state. 

The institution, thus successfully begun, continued 
daily to fiourish, to the great satisfaction of Dr. Frank- 
lin ; who, notwithstanding the multiplicity of his other 
engagements and pursuits, at that busy stage of his iife^ 
was a constant attendant at the monthly visitations and 
examinations of the schools, and mad€ it his particulai*" 
study, by means of his extensive correspondence 
abroad, to advance the reputation of the seminary, and 
to draw students and scholars to it from different parts 
of America and the West-Indies. Through the inter- 
position of his benevolent and learned friend Peter Col- 
linson, of London, upon the application of the trustees^ 
a charter of incorporation, dated July 13, 1753, was ob- 



i04 LIFE OF 

tained from the honourable proprietors of Pennsiyva- 
nia, Thomas Penn and Richard Penn, Esqs. accompa- 
nied with a liberal benefaction of five hundred pounds 
sterling ; and Dr. Franklin now began in good earnest 
to please himself with the hopes of a speedy accom- 
plishment of his original design, viz. the establishment 
of a perf^'Ct institution, upon the plan of the Europe- 
an colleges and universities ; for which his academy 
was intended as a nursery or foundation. To elucidate 
this fact, is a matter of considerable importance in res- 
pect to the memory and character of Dr. Franklin, as 
^ philosopher, and as the friend and patron of learning 
aiid science ; for notwithstanding what is expressly de- 
clared by him in the preamble to the constitutions, viz. 
that the academy was begun for " teaching the Latin 
and Greek languages, with all useful branches, of the 
arts and sciences, suitable to the state of an infant coun- 
try, and laying a foundation for }X)sterity to erect a 
seminary of learning more extensive, and suitable to 
their future circumstances," yet it has been suggested 
of late, as upon Dr. Franklin's authority, that the La- 
tin and Greek, or the dead languages, are an incum- 
brance upon a scheme of liberd education, and thut the 
engrafting or founding a college, or more extensive 
seminary, upon his academy, was v/ithout his approba- 
tion or agency, and gave him discontent. If there- 
verse of this does not already appear, from what has- 
been quoted above, the follov/ing letters will put th^ 
matter beyond dispute. They were written by him to 
a gentleman, who had at that time published the idea 
of a college, suited to the circumstances of a young 
country, (meaning New-York) a copy of which having 
been sent to Dr. Franklin for his opinion, gave rise to 
that correspondence which terminated, aboift a year af- 
terwards, in erecting the colleg«» upon the foundatioo 
of the academy, and establishing that gentleman at the 
head of both, where he still continues, after a period of 
thirty-six years, to preside witii distinguished reputa- 
tion. 



DR. FRANKLIN. 105 

From these ktters also, the state of the academy at 
that time, will be seen. 

Philadel/iki::^ April 19, 1753. 

SIR, 

I received your favor of the i Ith instant, v/ith you? 
Hew* piece on Education which 1 shall carefully pe- 
ruse, and give you my sentiments of it, as you desire, 
by next post. 

I believe the young gentlemen, your pupils, may be 
entertained and instructed here, in mathematics and 
philosophy to satisfaction. Mr. Alisonf (who was edu- 
cated at Glasgow) has been long accustomed to teach 
the latter, and Mr. Grew| the former ; and I think their 
pupils make great progress. Mr. Alison has the care 
of the Latin and Greek school, but as he has now three 
good assistants.§ he can very well afiord some hours 
every day for the instruction of those who are engaged 
in higher studies. The mathematical school is pretty 
well furnished with instruments. The English library 
is a good one ; and we have belonging to it a middling 
apparatus for experimental philosophy, and purpose 
speedily to complete it. The Lcganian library, one of 
the best collections in America, will shortly be open- 
ed ; so that neither books nor instruments will be w^ant - 
ing ; and as we are determined always to give good 
salaries, we have reason to believe v/e m.ay have always 
an opportunity of choosing good masters ; upon which, 
indeed, the success of the whole depends. We are 
obliged to you for your kind offers in this respect, and 
when you are settled in England, we may occasionally 
make use of your friendship and judgment. 

* A general idea of the college of IVIararjia. 

f The Rev. and learned Mr. Francis AUson, afterwards 
D. D. and Vice-Provost of the College. 

\ Mr. Theophilus Grew, afterwards Professor of Mathema- 
tics in the College. 

§ Those assistants were at that time Mr. Charles Thomp- 
son, late Secretary of Congress, Mr. Paul Jackson, and Mr. 
Jacob Duche. 



106 LIFE OF 

If it suits your conveniency to visit Philadelphia be- 
fore you return to Europe, I shall be extremely glad 
to see and converse with you here, as well as to cor- 
respond with you after your settlement in England ; 
for an acquaintance and communication with men of 
learning, virtue, and public spirit, is one of my great- 
est enjoyments. 

I do not know whether you ever happened to see the 
first proposals I made for erecting the Academy, I 
send them enclosed. They had (however imperfect) 
the desired success, being follov/cd by a subscription of 
four thousand pounds^ towards carrying them into ex- 
ecution. And as we are fond of receiving advice, and 
are daily invp^i'aving by experience, I am in hopes we 
shall in a few years, see ^/lerfect institution, 
I am very respectfully, Sec. 

B. FRANKLIN. 

Mr\ W, Smithy Long-Island. 

PhUadelJihia^ May 3 J, 1753. 

SIR, 

Mr. Peters has just now been with me, and we have 
compared notes on your new piece. We find nothing 
in the scheme of education, however excellent, but 
what is, in our opinion, very practicable. The great 
difficulty will be to find the Aratus,* and other suitable 
persons, to carry it into execution; but such may bs 
had, if proper encouragement be given. We h.ive both 
received great pleasure in the perusal of it. For my 
part, I know not when I have read a piece that has more 
affected me- — so noble and just are the sentiments, so 
warm and animated the language ; yet as censure from 
your friends may be of more use, as well as more agree- 
able to you than praise, I ought to mention, that I wish 
you had omitted not only the quotation from the Re* 

* The name given to the principal or head of the ideal col- 
lege, the system of education in which iiath nevertheless been 
nearly realized, or followed as a model, in the college and 
academy of Philadelphia, and some other American seminar 
ries, for many years past. 



DR. FRANKLIN. - 107 

vkw,* which you are now justly dissatisfied with, but 
those expressions of resentnient against your adversa- 
ries., in pages 65 and 79. In such cases the noblest vie*- 
tory is obtained by neglect, and by shining on. 

Mr. Allen has been out of town these ten days ; but 
before he went he directed nae to procure him six co- 
pies of yoiu* piece. ~ Mr. Peters has taken ten. He pur- 
posed to have written to you ; but omits it, as he ex- 
pects so soon to have the pleasure of seeing you here. 
He desires me to present his affectionate compliments 
to you, and lo assure you that you wiii be very welcome 
to bim. I shall only say? that you may depend on my 
doing all in my power to make your visit to Phiiadel^ 
phia aer^geable to you. 

I am, Sec. 

B. FRANKLIN. 

JMr, ^Sinith, 

Philadelphia^ A'^vembrr 27, 1753. 
Dear Sir, 

Having wruten you fully, via Bristol, I have now lit" 
lie to add. Matters relating to the Academy remain 
in statu quo. The trustees would be glad to see a rec- 
tor established there, but they dread entering into new 
engagements till they are got out of debt ; and I have 
not yet got them wholly over to my opinion, that a good 
professor, or teacher of the higher branches of learning, 
would draw so many scholars as to pay great part, if not 
the whole of his salary. Thus, unless the proprietors 
(of the province) shall think fit to put the finishing hand 
to our institution, it must, I fear, wait some few years 
longer before it can arrive at that state of perfection, 
wiiich to me it seems now capable of; and all the pleas- 
ure I promised myself in seeing you settled among us, 
vanishes into smoke. 

* The quotation alluded to (from the London Monthly Re- 
view for 1749,) was judg^ed to reflect too severely on the dis- 
cipline and government of the flnglish universities of Oxford 
and Cambridge, and was expunged from tlie following edi- 
tions of this work. 



108 LIFE OF 

But good Mr. Collinson writes mc word, that no en- 
deavours of his shall be wanting; and he hopes, with 
the archbishop's assistance, to be able to prevail with 
our proprietors.* I pray God grant them success. 

My son presents his affectionate regards, with, dear 
sir, Yours, &:c. 

B. FRANKLIN. 

P. S. I have not been favoured with a line from you 
since your arrival in England. 

Philadelphia^ Afiril la, ir54.. 
Dear Sir, 
I have had but one letter from you since your arrival 
in England, which was a short one, -via Boston, dated 
October 18th, acquainting me that you had written 
largely by captain Davis^ — Davis was lost, and with him 
your letters, to my great disappointment. Mesnard 
and Gibbon have smce arrived liere, and I hear nothing 
from you. My comfort is, an imagination that you on- 
ly omit writing because you are coming, and purpose 
to tell me every thing -viua -voce. So not knowing 
whether this letter will reach you, and hoping either to 
see or hear from you by the Myrtilla, Capt. Buddon's 
ship, which is daily expected, I only add, that I am, 
with great esteem and affection, 

Yoursj &c. 

B. FRANKLIN. 
Mr. Smith. 

About a month after the date of this last letter, the 
gentleman to whom it was addressed arrived in Phila- 
delphia, and was immediately placed at the head of the 
-seminary ; whereby Dr. Franklin, and the other trus- 
tees, were enabled to prosecute their plan^for perfect- 

* Upon tlie application of archbisliop Herring', and P. Col- 
linson, Esq. ut Dr. Franklin's request, (tiided by the letters of 
Mr. Allen a!id Mr Peters) the Hom. Thomas Penn, Esq sub- 
scribed an annual sum, and afterwards gave at least 50001. to 
the founding' or eng'rafting' the Collcg-e upon the Academy. 



DR. FRANKLIN. 103 

ij3g the institution, and opening the college upon the 
large and liberal foundation on which it now stands ; 
for which purpose they obtained their additional char- 
ter, dated May 27th, 17 55. 

Thus far we thought it proper to exhibit in one view 
Dr. Franklin's services in the foundation and establish- 
ment of this seminary. He soon afterwards embark* 
ed fur England, in the public service of his country ; 
and having been generally employed abroad, in the like 
service, for the greatest part of the remainder of his 
life, (as will appear in our subsequent account of the 
satoe) he had but few opportunites of taking any fur- 
ther active part in the affairs of tiie seminary, until his 
final return in the year 1785, when he found its char- 
ters violated, and his ancient colleagues, the original 
founders, deprived of their trust, by an act of the le- 
gislature ; and although his own name had been insert- 
ed among the new trustees, yet he declined to take his 
seat among them, or any concern in the management 
of their affairs, till the institution was restored by law 
to its original owners. He then assembled his old 
colleagues at his own house, and being chosen their 
president, all their future meetings were, at his request 
held there, till within a few months of his death, when 
with reluctance, and at their desire, lest he might be 
too much injured by his attention to their business, he 
suffered them to meet at the college. 

Franklin not only gdve birth to many useful institu^ 
tions himself, but he was also instrun^ental in promot- 
ing those which had originated with other men. About 
the year 1752, an eminent physician of this city, Dr. 
Bond, considering the deplorable state of ^he poor, 
when visited with disease, conceived the idea of esta- 
biisning an hospital. Notwithstanding very great ex- 
ertions on his part, he was able to interest few peo- 
ple so far in his benevolent plan, as to obtain subscrip- 
tion^ from them. Unwilling that his scheme should 
prove iibortive, lie sou.t^iit the aid of Franklin, who rea- 
dily engaged in the business, both by using his influ^ 

K 



jUO . WFEOF 

ance with his friends, and by stating the advantageoxis 
influence of the proposed institution in his paper — 
These efforts were attended with success.— Consider- 
ble sums were subscribed : but they were still short of 
what was necessary. Franklin now made another ex- 
tortion. He applied t^o the assembly, and, after some 
opposition, obtained leave to bring in a bill, specifying 
that as soon as two thousand pounds were subscribed, 
the same sum should be drawn from the treasury by 
the speaker's warrant, to be applied to the purposes of 
the institution. The opposition, as the sum was grant- 
ed upon a contingency which they supposed would ne- 
ver take place, were silent, and the bill passed. The 
friends of the plan now redoubled their efforts to obtain 
subscriptions to the amolmt stated in the bill, and were 
soon successful. This was the foundation of the Penn- 
sylvania Hospital, which, with the Bettering-house and 
Dispensary, bear ample testimony of the humanity of 
the citizens of Philadelphia. 

Dr. Franklin had conducted himself so well in the 
office of post-master, and had shown himself to be so 
well acquainted with the business of that department, 
chat it was thought expedient to raise him to a more 
dignified station. In 1753 he was appointed deputy- 
postmaster-general for the British colonies. The pro- 
-iits arising from the postage of letters, formed no in- 
considerable part of the revenue, which the crown of 
Great Britain derived from the colonies. In the hands 
of Franklin it is said, that the post-office in America 
yielded annually thrice as much as that of Ireland. 

The American colonies were much exposed to de- 
predations on their frontiers, by the Indians ; and more 
particularly whenever a war took place between France 
and England. The colonies, individually, were either 
too weak to take efficient measures for their own de- 
fence, or they were unwilling to take upon themselves 
the whole burthen of erecting forts and maintaining 
garrisons, whilst their neighbors, who partook equally 
^Tith themselves of the advantages, contributed nothing 



DR. FRANKLIN. Ill 

to the ex pence. Sometimes also the disputes, which 
subsisted between the governors and assemblies, pre- 
vented the adoption of means of defence : as we have 
seen was the case in Pennsylvania in 1745. To devise 
a plan of union between the colonies, to regulate this 
and other matters, appeared a desirable object. To 
accomplish this, in the year 1754, commissioners from 
New-Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode-Isiand, New- 
Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Maryland, met at Albany. 
Dr. Franklin attended here, as a commissioner from 
Pennsylvania, and produced a plan, which, from the 
place of meeting, has been usually termed " The Al- 
bany Plan of Union.*' — This proposed, that application 
should be made for an act of Parliament, to establish 
in the colonies a general government, to be administer- 
ed by a president-general, appointed by the crown, and 
by a grand-council, consisting of members chosen 
by the representatives of the different colonies ; theiy 
number to be in direct proportion to the sums paid by- 
each colony into the general treasury, with this restric- 
tion, that no colony should have more than seven, nor 
less than two representatives. The whole executive au- 
authority was committed to the president- general. The 
power of legislation was lodged in the grand-council 
and president-general, jointly ; his consent being made 
necessary to passing a bill into a law. The powers vest- 
ed in the president and council were, to declare war and 
peace, and to conclude treaties with the Indian nations j 
to regulate trade with, and to make purchases of va- 
cant lands from them, either in the name of the crown^ 
or of the union : to settle new colonies, to make laws 
for governing these until they should be erected in se- 
parate governments, and to raise troops, build forts, fit 
out armed vessels, and use other means, for the gene- 
ral defence : and, to effect these things, a power wavS 
given to make laws, laying such duties, imposts, or 
taxes, as they should find necessary, and as would be 
Jeast burthensome to the people. AH laws were to be 
sent to England for the king's approbaUon ; and unlesf> 



y" 



112 UFE OF 

disapproved of within three years, were to remain in 
force. All officers in the land or sea-service were to 
be nominated by the president-general, and approved 
of by the general council ; civil officers were to be 
nominated by the council, and approved of by the pre«-' 
8ident. Such are the outlines of the plan proposed for 
the consideration of the congress, by Dr. Franklin.-^ 
After several days discussion, it was unanimously agreed 
to by the commissioners, that a copy be transmitted to 
each assembly, and one to the king's council. The. fate 
of it was singular. It was disapproved of by the ministry 
of Great Britain, because it gave too much power to the 
represetitatives of the people ; and it was rejected by 
every assembly, as giving to the president- general the 
representative of the crown, an influence greater than 
appeared to them proper, in a plan of government ia» 
tended for free men. Perhaps this rejection, on both 
sides, is the strongest proof that could be adduced of 
the excellence of it, as suited to the situation of Ame* 
rica and Great Britain at that time.— It appears to have 
steered exactly in the middle, between the opposite in- 
terests of both. 

Whether the adoption of this plan would have pre* 
vented the sepaiation of America from Great Britain^ 
is a question which might afford much room for spec- 
ulation, it may be said, that, by enabling the colonies 
to detcnd themselves, it would have removed the pre- 
text upon which the stampt-act, tea-act, and other acts 
of ti]e British parliament, v/ere passed ; which excited 
■a spirit of opposition, and laid the foundation for the se- 
paration of the two counti'ies. But, on the other hand, 
it must be admitted, that the restriction laid by Great 
Britain upon our commerce, obliged us to sell our pro- 
duce to her citizens only, and take from them various 
articles, of v/hich, as our manufactures were discour- 
aged, we stood in need, at a price greater than that for 
which they could have been obtained from other nations, 
must inevitably produce dissatisfaction, even though 
no duties were imposed by th^ parliament j a circum- 



DR. FRANKLIN. 11.^ 

Stance which might still havQ taken place. Besides^ 
as the president-general was to be appointed by the 
crown, he must^ of necessity, be devoted to its views- 
and would therefore, refuse his assent to any laws, how-* 
ever salutary to the community, which had the most 
remote tendency to injure the interests of his sover- 
eign. Even should they receive his assent, the appro- 
bation of the king was to be necessary ; who would in- 
dubitably, in every instance, prefer the advantage of his 
home dominions to that of his colonies. Hence would 
ensue perpetual disagreements between the council 
and the president-general, and thus, between the peo» 
pie of America and the crown of Great Britain. While 
the colonies continued weak, they would be obliged to 
submit, and as soon as they acquired strength, they 
would become more urgent in their demands, until at 
length, they would shake off the yoke, and declare 
themselves independent. 

Whilst the French were in possession of Canada, their 
trade with the natives extended very far, even to the 
back of the British settlements. They were disposed, 
from time to time, to establish posts v/ithin the territo- 
ry which the British claimed as their own. Indepen- 
dent of the injury to the fur trade, which was consi- 
derable, the colonies suffered this further inconveni- 
ence, that the Indians were frequently instigated to 
commit depredations on their frontiers. In the year 
1753, encroachments were made upon the boundaries 
©f Virginia. Kemonstrances had no effect In the 
ensuing year, a body of men was sent out under the 
command of Mr. Washington, who, though a very^ 
young man, had, by his conduct in the preceding year,, 
shewn himselfworthyofsuch an important trust. Whilst 
marching to take possession of the post at the junc- 
tion of the Allegheny and Monongahela, he was inform- 
ed that the French had already erected a fort there.—. 
A detachment of their men marched against him. He 
fortified himself as strongly as time and circumstances 
"would admit. A superiority of numbers soon obliged 

K2. 



Ui LIFE OF 

him to surrender Fort J^ecessity, He obtained honor- 
able terms for himself and men, and returned to Vir- 
ginia. The government of Great Britain now thought 
it necessary to interfere. In the year 1755, General 
Braddock, with some regiments of regular troops, and 
provincial levies, was sent to dispossess the- French 
of the posts upon which they had seized. After the 
men were all ready, a difficulty occured which had 
nearly prevented the expedition. This was the want 
of waggons. Franklin nov/ stepped forward, and with 
the assistance of his son, in a little time procured an 
hundred and nfty. Braddock unfortunately fell into an 
ambuscade, and perished, with a number of his men. 
Washington, who had accompanied liim as an aid-de- 
ramp, and had warned him, in vain, of his danger, now 
displayed great military talents in effecting a retreat of 
*she remains of the army, and in forming a junction 
with the rear, under Gol. Dunbar, upon whom the chief 
i:ommand now devolved. With some difficulty they 
brought their little bpdy to a place of safety ; but they 
ioand it necessary to destroy tlieir waggons and bag- 
p^age, to prevent their fulling into the hands of the 
enemy. For the waggons v/hich he had furnished, 
Franklin had given bonds to a large amount. The 
owners declared their intentions of obliging him to 
make a restitution of their property. Had they put 
their threats into execution, ruin must inevitably have 
been the consequence. Governor Shirley, finding that 
he had incurred these debts for the service of govern- 
ment, made arrangements to have them discharged, 
and released Franklin from his disagreeable situation. 
The alarm spread through the colonies, after the de- 
teat of Braddock, was very great. Preparations to arm- 
were every where made. In Pennsylvania, the preva- 
lence of the quaker interest prevented the adoption of 
i^ny system of defence, which w^ould compel the citi- 
zens to bear arms. Franklin introduced into the as- 
sembly a bill for organizing a militia, by winch every 
jKtan was allowed to take arms or not, as to him should 



DR. FRANKLIN. 115 

appear lit. The quakers, being thus left at liberty, suf- 
fered the bill to pass ; for although their principles 
would not suffer them to fight, they had no objections 
to their neighbours fighthig for them. In consequence 
of this act a very respectable militia was formed. The 
sense of impending danger infused a military spirit in 
all, whose religious tenets were not opposed to war. 
Franklin was appointed colonel of a regiment in Phi- 
ladelphia, which consisted of 1200 men. 

The north western frontier being ihvaddd by the 
enemy, it became necessary to adopt measures for its 
defence. Franklin was directed by the governor to 
take charge of this business. A powxr of raising men 
and of appointing officers to command them, was vest- 
ed in him. He soon levied a body of troops, with which 
he repaired to the place at which their presence was 
necessary. Here he built a fort, and placed the garri- 
son in such a posture of defence, as would enable them 
10 withstand the inroads, to which the inhabitants had 
previously been exposed. He remained here for some 
time, in order the more completely to discharge the 
trust committed to him. Some business of importance 
rendered his presence necessary in the assembly, and 
he returned to Philadelphia. 

The defence of her colonies was a great expence to 
Great Britain. The most effectual mode of lessening 
this was, to put arms into the hands of the inhabitants, 
and to teach them their use. But England wished not 
that the Americans should become acquainted with 
their own strength. She was apprehensive, that, as 
soon as this period arrived, they would no longer sub- 
mit to that monopoly of their trade, which to them was 
highly injurious, but extremely advantageous to the 
mother country. In comparison with the profits of 
this, the expence of maintaining armies and fleets to de- 
fend them was trifling. She sought to keep them d^ 
pendent upon her for protection, the best plan which 
eould be devised for retaining them in peaceable sub- 
jection. The least appearance of a military spirit wa^ 



116 LIFE OF 

therefore to be guarded against, and, although a war 
then raged, the act organizing a militia was disapprov- 
ed of by the ministry. The regiments which had b'jen 
formed under it were disbanded, and the defence of 
the province entrusted to regular troops. 

The disputes between tiie proprietaries and the peo- 
ple continued in full force, although a war was raging 
on the frontiers. Not even the sense of danger was^ 
sufficient to reconcile, for ever so short a time, their 
jarring interests. The assembly still insisted upon 
the justice of taxing the proprietary estates, but the 
governors constantly refused to give their assent to this 
measure, without which no bill could pass into a law. 
Enraged at the obstinacy, at what they conceived to 
be unjust proceedings of their opponents, the assembly 
at length determined to apply to the mother country 
for relief. A petition was addressed to the King in 
council, stating the inconveniences under which the in- 
habitants laboured, from the attention of the proprieta* 
ries to their private interests, to the neglect of the gen- 
eral welfare of the community, and praying for redre&s* 
Franklin was appointed to present this address, as agent 
jfbr the province of Pennsylvania, and departed from 
America in June 1757. In conformity to the instruc- 
tions which he had received from the legislature, he 
held a conference with the proprietaries, who then re- 
sided in England, and endeavoured to prevail upon 
them to give up the long-contested point. Finding 
that they would hearken to no terms of accommodation, 
he laid his petition before the council. During this^ 
time Gov. Denny assented to a law imposing a tax, in 
"which no discrimination was miide in favour of the Peniv 
family. They, alarmed at this intelligence, and Frank- 
lin's exertions, used their utmost exertions to prevent 
the royal sanction being given to this I'^w, which they 
represented as highly iniquitous, designed to throw the 
burden of supporting government on them, and calcu- 
lated to produce the most ruinous consequences to them 
and their posterity. The cause was amply discussed 



DR. FRANKLIN. llf 

before the privy council. The Penns found here some 
strenuous advocates; nor V7ere there wanting some 
who warmly espoused the side of the people. After 
some time spent in debate, a proposal was made, that 
Franklin should solemnly engage, thai the assessment 
of the tax should bo so made, as that the proprietary 
estates should pay no more than a due proportion.— 
This he agreed to perform, the Penn family withdrew 
their opposition, anc^ tranquility was thus once more 
restored to the province. 

The mode in which this dispute was terminated is 
a striking proof of the high opinion entertained of 
Franklin's integrity and honour* even by those who con- 
sidered him as inimical to their views. Nor was their 
confidence ill-founded. The assessment v/as made up- 
on the strictest principles of equity ; and the proprie- 
tary estates bore only a proportionable share of ihc ex- 
pences of supporting governm.ent. 

After the completion of this important business^ 
Franklin remained at the court of Great Britain, as 
agent for the province of Pennsylvania. The extensive 
knowledge which he possessed of the situation of the 
colonies, and the regard which he always manifested 
for their interests, occasioned his appointment to the 
same office by the colonies of Massachusetts, Mary- 
land, and Georgia. His conduct, in this situation, was 
such as rendered him still more dear to his countrymen. 

He had now an opportunity of indulging in the socie- 
ty of those friends, whom his merits had procured him 
while at a distance. The regard which they had enter- 
tained for him was rather encreased by a personal ac- 
quaintance. The opposition which had been made to 
his discoveries in philosophy gradually ceased, and the 
rewards of literary merit were abundantly conferred 
upon him. The Royal Society of London, which had 
at first refused his performances admission into its trans- 
actions, now thought it an honour to rank him among 
its fellows. Other societies of Europe were equally 
ambitious of calling him a member. The university 



il8 LIFE OF 

of St. Andrew's in Scotland, conferred upott hitn the 
degree of Doctor of Laws. Its example was followed 
by the Universities of Edinburgh and of Oxford. His 
correspondence was sought for by the most eminent 
Philosophers of Europe. His letters to these abound 
with true science, delivered in the most simple un- 
adorned manner. 

The province of Canada was at this time in the pos- 
•session of the French, who had originally settled it.-— 
The trade with the Indians, for which its situation was 
very convenient, was exceedingly lucrative. The 
French traders here found a market for their commo- 
dities, and received in return large quantities of rich 
furs, which they disposed of at a high price in Europe. 
Whilst the possession of this country was highly ad- 
vantageous to France, it was a grievous inconvenience 
to the inhabitants of the British colonies. The Indians 
were almost generally desirous to cultivate the friend- 
ship of the French, by whom they were abundantly sup- 
plied with arms and ammunition. Whenever a wat 
happened, the Indians were ready to fall upon the fron- 
tiers : and this they frequently did, even when Great 
Britain and France were at peace. From these consi- 
derations, it appeared to be the interest of Great Britain 
,'to gain the possession of Canada. But the importance 
of such an acquisition was not well understood in Eng- 
land. Franklin about this time published his Canada 
pamphlet, in which he, in a very forcible manner, point- 
ed out the advantages which would result from the con- 
quest of this province. 

An expedition against it was planned, and the com- 
mand given to General Wolfe. His success is well 
known. At the treaty in 1762, France ceded Canada 
to Great Britain, and by her cession of Louisiana, at the 
same time relinquished ail her possessions on the con- 
tinent of America. 

Although Dr. Franklin was now principally occupi- 
ed with political pursuits, he found time for philoso- 
phical studies. He extended his electrical researches^ 



DR. FRANKLIX. 119 

snd made a variety of experiments, particularly on the 
tourmalin. The singular properties which this stone 
possesses of bein^ electrified on one side positively, 
and on the other negatively, by heat alone, without 
friction- had been but lately observed. 

Some experiments on the cold produced by evapo- 
ration, made by Dr. Cullen, had been communicated to 
Dr. Franklin by Professor Simpson of Glasgow. These 
he repeated, and found, that, by the evaporation of ether 
in the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, so great a de- 
gree of cold v/as produced in a summer's day, that wa- 
ter was converted into ice. This discovery he applied 
to the solution of a number of phenomena, particularly 
a single fact, which philosophers had endeavoured in 
vain to account for, viz. that the temperature of the hu- 
man body, when in health, never exceeds 96 degrees 
of Farenheit's thermometer, although the atmosphere 
which surrounds it may be heated to a much greater 
degree. This he attributed to the increased perspira- 
tion, and consequent evaporation produced by the heat. 
In a letter to Mr. Small of London, dated in May 1760, 
Dr. Franklin makes a number of observations, tending 
to shew that, in North America, north-east storms be- 
gin in the south-west parts. It appears, from actual ob- 
servation, that a north-east storm, which extended a 
considerable distance, commenced at Philadelphia near- 
ly four liours before it was felt at Boston. He endea- 
voured to account for this, by supposing that, from heat, 
some rarefaction takes place about the Gulph of Mexi- 
co, that the air further north being cooler, rushes in, 
and is succeeded by the cooler and denser air still fur- 
ther north, and that thus a continued current is at length 
produced. 

The tone produced by rubbing the brim of a drink^- 
ing glass with a wet finger had been generally known. 
A Mr. Puckeridge, an Irishman, by placing on the ta- 
ble a number of glasses of different sizes, and tuning 
them by partly filling them with water, endeavoured to 
lorm an instrument capable of playing tunes. He wa? 



I 

120 LIFE OF 

prevented by an untimely end, from bringing his in- 
vention to any degree of perfection. After his death 
some improvefnents were made upon his plan. Th^ 
sweetness of thp tones induced Dr. Franklin to make 
a variety of experiments ; and he at length formed 
that elegant instrument which he has called the Armo- 
nica. 

In the summer of 1762 he returned to America. On 
his passage he observed the singular effect produced 
by the agitation of a vessel, containing oil floating on 
water. The surface of the oil remains smooth and un- 
disturbed, whilst the water is agitated with the ut- 
most commotion. No satisfactory explanation of this 
appearance has, we believe, ever been given. 

Dr. Franklin received the thanks of the assembly of 
Pennsylvania, " as well for the faithful discharge of his 
duty to that pi^ovince in particular, as for the many and 
important services done to America in general, dur- 
ing; his residence in Great Britain." A compensation 
of 50001. Pennsylvania currency, was also decreed 
him for his services during six years. 

During his absence he had been annually elected 
member of the assembly. On his return to Pennsyl- 
vania he again took his seat in this body, and continued 
a steady defender of the liberties of the people. 

In December 1762, a circumstance which caused 
great alarm in the province took place. A number of 
Indians had resided in the county of Lancaster, ^nd 
conducted themselves uniformly as friends to the white 
inhabitants. Repeated depredations on the frontiers 
bad exasperated the inhabitants to such a degree, that 
they determined on revenge upon every Indian. A 
number of persons, to the amount of 120 principal in- 
habitants of Donegal and Peckstang or Paxton tov/n- 
Bhips, in the county of York, assembled ; and mount- 
ed on horseback, proceeded to the settlement of these 
harmless and defenceless Indians, whose number had 
now reduced to about twenty. The Indians received 
intelligence of the attack whic;h was intended against 



DR. FRANKLIN. 121 

them, but disbelieved h. Considering- the white peo- 
ple as their friends, they apprehended no danger from 
them. Wheii the party arrived at the Indian settle- 
ment, they found only some women and children, and 
a few old men, the rest being absent at work. They 
murdered all whom they found, and amongst others the 
chief Shahaes, who had been always distinguished for 
his friendship to the whites. This bloody deed excit- 
ed much indignation in the well disposed part of the 
community. 

The remaifider of these unfortunate Indians, who^ 
by absence, had escaped the massacre, were conduct* 
ed to Lancaster, and lodged in the goal, as a place of 
security. The governpr issued a proclamation, ex- 
pressing the strongest disapprobation of the action, of- 
fering a reward for the discovery of the perpetrators 
of the deed and prohibiting all injuries to the peaceable 
Indians in future. But, notwithstanding this, a party 
of the same men shortly after marched to Lancaster, 
broke open the goal, and inhumanly butchered the in- 
nocent Indians, who had been placed there for secu- 
rity. Another proclamation was issued, but had no ef- 
fect. A detachment marched down to Philadelphia, 
for the express purpose of murdering some friendly 
Indians, who had been removed to the city for safety. 
A number of the citizens armed in their defence. — 
The Quakers, whose principles are opposed to fight- 
ing, even in their own defence, were most active upon 
this occasion. The rioters came to Germantown.-— 
The governor fled for safety to the house of Dr. Frank- 
lin, who with some others, advanced to meet the Pax- 
ton boys, as they were called, and had influence enough 
to prevail upon them to relinquish their undertaking, 
^d return to t^ieir homes. 

The disputes between the proprietaries and the as- 
sembly, which, for a time, had subsided, were again re- 
vived. The proprietaries were disbtttlsfied with the 
concessions made in favour of the people, and made 
great struggles to recover the privilege of exempthjg 

L 



122 LIPE OP 

their estates from taxation, which they had been induc- 
ed to give up. 

In 1763 the assembly passed a militia bill, to which 
the governor refused to give his assent, unless the as- 
sembly would agree to certain amendments which he 
proposed. These consisted in increasing the fines, 
and, in some cases, substituting death for fines. He 
wished too, that the officers should be appointed alto* 
gether by himself, and not be nominated by the people, 
as the bill had proposed. These amendments the as- 
sembly considered as inconsistent with the spirit of li- 
berty. They woujd not adopt them ; the governor was 
obstinate, and the bill was lost. 

These, and various other circumstances, increased 
the uneasiness which subsisted between the proprieta- 
ries and the assembly, to such a degree, that, in 1764, 
a petition to the king was agreed to by the house, pray- 
ing an alteration from a proprietary to a regal govern- 
ment. Great opposition was made to this measure, not 
only in the house but in the public prints. A speech 
of Mr. Dickenson, on the subject, was published, with 
a preface by Dr. Smith, in which great pains were taken 
to shew the impropriety and impolicy of this proceed- 
ing. A speech of Mr. Galloway, in reply to Mr. Dick- 
enson was published, accompanied with a preface by 
Dr. Franklin ; in which he ably opposed the principles 
laid down in the preface to Mr. Dickinson's speech.— 
This application to the thi'one produced no effect.— 
The proprietary government was still continued- 

At the election for a new assembly, in the fall of 
1764, the friends of the proprietaries made great exer- 
tions to exclude those of the adverse party, and obtain- 
ed a small majority in the city of Philadelphia. Frank- 
lin now lost his seat in the house, which he had held 
for fourteen years. On the meeting of the assembly, 
it appeared that there was still a decided majority of 
Franklin's friends. He was immediately appointed 
provincial agent, to the great chagrin of his enemies, 
who made a solenm protest against his appointment; 



DR. FRANKLIN. 123 

which was refused admission upon the minutes, as be- 
ing unprecedented. It was, however, published in 
the papers, and produced a spirited reply from him, 
just before his departure for England. 

The disturbances produced in America by Mr. 
Gren vine's stamp act, and the opposition made to it are 
\veU known. Under the marquis of Rockingham's ad- 
ministration, it appeared expedient to endeavour to 
calm the minds of the colonists ; and the repeal of the 
odious tax was contemplated. Amongst other means 
of collecting information on the disposition of the peo- 
ple to submit to-it, Dr. Franklin was called to the bar 
of the house of commons. The examination which he 
here underwent was published, and contains a striking 
proof of the extent and accuracy of his information, and 
ihe fecility with which he communicated his sentiments. 
He represented facts in so strong a point of view, that 
the inexpediency of the act must have appeared clear 
to every unprejudiced mind. The act, after some op- 
position, was repealed, about a year after it was enacted, 
and before it had ever been carried into execution. 

In the year 1766, he made a visit to Holland and 
Germany, and received the greatest marks of attention 
from men of science. In his passage through Holland, 
he learned from the watermen the effect which a di- 
rninution of the quantity of water in canals has, in im- 
peding the progress of boats. Upon his return to Eng- 
land, he was led to. make annmber of experiments; all 
of which tended to confirm the observation. These, 
with an explanation of the phenomenon, he communi- 
cated in a letter to his friend, Sir John Springle, which 
is contained in the volume of his philosophical pieces. 

In the following year he travelled into France, where 
he met with no less favorable reception than he had ex- 
perienced in Germany. Ha was introduced to a num- 
ber of literary characters, and to the King Louis XV. 

Several letters written by Hutchinson, Oliver, and 
others, to persons in eminent stations in Great Britain, 
came into the hands ofDr. Franklin. 



124 LIFE OF 

These contained the most violent invectives against 
the leading characters of the statij of Massachusetts, and 
strenuously advised the prosecution of vigorous meas- 
ures, to conjpel the people to obedience to the meas- 
ures of the ministry. These he transmitted to the le- 
gislature, by whom they were published. Attested co- 
pies of them were sent to Great Britain, with an address, 
praying the king to discharge from office persons who 
had rendered themselves so obnoxious to the people, 
and who had shewn themselves so unfriendly to their 
interests. The publication of these letters produced a 
duel between Mr. Whately and Mr. Temple ; each of 
whom was suspected of having been instrumental in 
procuring them. To prevent any further disputes on 
ihis subject, Dr. Franklin, in one of the public papers, 
declared that he had sent them to America, but would 
give no information concerning the manner in which 
he had obtained them \ nor was this ever discovered. 
' Shortly ufter,the petition of the Massachusetts assem- 
bly was taken up for examination before the privy coun- 
f'lL Dr. Franklin attended, as agent for the assembly ; 
aXid here a torrent of the most violent and unwarranted 
abuse was poured upon him by the solicitor- general^ 
Wedderburne, who was engaged as council for Oliver 
and Hutchinson. The petition was declared to be scan- 
dalous and vexatious, and the prayer of it refused. 

Although the pariiaiiaent oi Great Britain had repeal- 
ed the stamp-act, it was only upon the principal of ex- 
pediency. They still insisted upon the right to tax the 
colonies ; and, at the same time that the stamp-act was^ 
repealed, an act was passed, declaring the right of par- 
Uauient to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever.— 
This language was used even by the most strenuous 
opposers of the stamp-act ; and, amongst others, by- 
Mr. Piit. This right was never recognized by the col- 
onists ; but, as they flattered themselves that it would 
not be exercised, they were not very active in rem.on- 
strating against it. Had this pretended right been suf* 
fei^d to remain dormant, th^ colonists yrould cheerful- 



DR. FRANKLIN. 125 

ly have furnished their quota of supplies, in the mode 
to which they had been accustomed ; that is, by acts of 
their own assemblies, in consequence of requisitions 
from the secretary of state. If this practice had been 
pursued, such was the disposition of the colonies to- 
wards the mother country, that, notwithstanding the 
disadvantages umler v/hich tliey laboured, from res- 
traints upon their trade, calculated solely for the bene- 
fit of the commercial and manufacturing interests of 
Great Britain, a separation of the two countries might 
have been a far distant event. The Americans, from 
tlieir earliest infancy, were taught to venerate a people 
from whom they were descended ; whose language, 
laws, and manners, were the same as their own. They 
looked up to them as models of perfection ; and, in their 
prejudiced minds, the most enlightened nations of Eu- 
rope were considered as almost barbarians, in compari- 
son with Englishmen. The name of an Englishman 
conveyed to an American the idea of every thing good 
and great. Such sentiments instilled into them in ear- 
iy life, what but a repetition af unjust treatment could 
have induced them to entertain the most distant thought 
of separation I The duties on glass, paper, leather, pain • 
ter's colours, tea, &c. the disfranchisement of some of 
the colonies; the obstruction to the measure of the le- 
gislature in others, by the king's governors ; the con- 
temptuous treatment of their humble re monstrance s^ 
stating their grievances, and praying a redress of them, 
and other violent and oppressive measures, at lengtlv 
excited an ardent spirit of opposition. Instead of en- 
deavoring to allay this by a more lenient conduct, the 
m.inistry seemed resolutely bent upon reducing the co- 
lonies to the most slavish obedience to their decrees. 
But this tended only to aggravate. Vain were all the 
efforts made use of to prevail upon them to lay aside 
their designs, to convince them of the impossibiUty of 
carrying them into effect, and of the mischievous eon- 
sequences which must ensue from a continuance of ths. 

%.2 



126 OFE Of 

attempt They persevered, with a degree of inflexi" 
bility scarcely paralleled. 

The advantages which Great Britain derived from 
her colonies were so great, that nothing but a degree 
of infatuation little short of madness, could have produ* 
ted a continuance of measures calculated to keep up a 
spirit of uneasiness, which might occasion the slight- 
est wish for a separation. When we consider the great 
improvement in the science of government, the gen* 
eral diffusion of the principles of liberty amongst the 
people of Europe, the effects which these have already 
produced in France, and the probable consequences 
which will result from them elsewhere, all of which 
are the offspring of the American revolution, it can- 
not but appear strange, that events of so great moment 
to the happiness of mankind, should have been ulti- 
mately occasioned by the wickedness or ignorance of a 
British ministry. 

Dr. Franklin left nothing untried to prevail upon the 
ministry to consent to a change of measure. In pri- 
vate conversations, and in letters. to persons in govern- 
ment, he continually expatiated upon the impolicy and 
injustice of their couduct towards America ; and sta- 
ted, that, notwithstanding the attachment of the colo- 
nists towards the mother country, a repetion of ill treat- 
ment must ultimately alienate their affections. They 
listened not to his advice. They blindly persevered in 
their own schemes, and left to the colonists no alterna- 
tive, but opposition or unconditional submission. The- 
latter accorded not with the principles of freedoray 
which they had been taught to revere. To the for- 
mer they were compelled, though reluctantly, to have 
recourse. 

Dr. Franklin, finding all efforts to restore harmony 
between Great Britain and her colonies useless, return- 
ed to America in the year 1775 ; just after the com- 
mencement of hostilities. The day after his return he 
was elected by the legislature of Pennsylvania a Mem- 
ber of Congress^ Not long after his election a com- 



DR. FRAKKLIN' ^ i:>7 

/nittee was appointed, consisting of Mr. Lynch, Mr. 
Harrison, and himself, to visit the Camp at Cambridge, 
and in conjunction with the commander in chief, to en- 
deavour to convince the troops, whose term of enlist- 
ment was about to expire, of the necessity of their con- 
tinuing in the field, and persevering in the cause of 
their country. 

In the fall of the same year he visited Canada, to en- 
deavour to unite them in the common cause of liberty; 
but they could not be prevailed upon to oppose the 
measures of the British Government. M. Le Roy, in 
a letter annexed to Abbe Fauchet's eulogium of Dr» 
Franklin, states that the ill success of this negociation 
was occasioned, in a great degree, by religious animo- 
sites, which subsisted between the Canadians and their 
neighbours, some of whom had at different times burnt 
their chapels. 

When Lord Howe came to America, in 1776, vest- 
ed with power to treat with the colonists, a correspon- 
dence took place between him and Dr. Franklin, on the 
subject of a reconciliation. Dr. Franklin was after- 
wards appointed, together with John Adam>s and Ed- 
ward Rutiedge, to wait upon the commissioners, in or- 
der to learn the extent of their power. These were 
found to be only to grant pardons upon submission — • 
These were terms which would not be excepted ; and 
the object of the commissioners could not be obtained. 

The momentous question of Independence was 
shortly after brought into view, at a time when the fleets, 
and armies, which were sent to enforce obedience^ 
were truly formidable. With an army, numerous in- 
deed, but ignorant of discipline, and entirely unskilled 
in the art of war, without money, without a fleet, with- 
out allies, and with nothing but the love of liberty to 
support them, the colonists determined to separate 
from a country, from which they had experienced a 
repetition of injury and insult. In this question Dr. 
Franklin was decidedlv in favour of the measure pro- 



i2S LIFE OP 

posed, and had great influence in bringing over others 
to liis sentiments. 

The public mind has been pretty fully prepared for 
this event, by Mr. Puine's celebrated pamphlet, Co77i^ 
vion Sense, There is good reason to iDelieve that Dr. 
Franklin had no inconsiderable share, at least, in fur* 
nishing materials for this work. 

In the convention which assembled at Philadelphia 
in 1776, for the purpose of establishing a new form of 
government for the state of Pennsylvania, Dr. Frank- 
lin was chosen president. The late constitution of this 
state, which was the result of their deliberations, may 
be considered as a digest of his principles of govern- 
ment. The single legislature, and the plural executive^ 
seem to have been his favourite tenets. 

In the latter end of 1776, Dr. Franklin was appoint- 
ed to assist in the negociations which had been set on 
foot by Silas Deanc at the court of France. A convic- 
tion of the advantages of a commercial intercourse with 
America, and a desire of weakening tlie British empire 
by dismembering it, first induced the French court to 
listen to proposals of an alliance. But they shewed ra- 
ther a reluctance to the measure, which, by Dr. Frank- 
lin's address, and particularly by the success of the 
American arms against general Burgoyne, was at length 
overcome ; and in February- 1778, a treaty of alliance, 
offensive and defensive, was concluded ;^ in consequence 
of which France became involved in the war with Great 
Britain. 

Perhaps no person could have been found, more ca» 
pable of rendering essential services to the United States- 
at the court of France, than Dr. Franklin. He was well 
known as a philosopher, and his character was held in 
the highest estimation. He was received with the great- 
est marks of respect by all the literary characters ; and 
this respect was extended amongst all classes of men, 
fiis personal influence was hence very considerable. 
To the effects of this were added those of various per- 
foinnances which he published, tending to establish the 



DR. FRANKUK. 129 

credit and c}\aracter of the United States. To his ex^ 
ertions in this i^^ay, may, in no small degree be ascrib- 
ed the success of the loans negociated in Holland and 
France, which greatly contributed to bringing the war 
to a happy conclusion. 

The repeated ill success of their arms, and more 
particularly the capture of Cornwallis and his army, at 
length convinced the British nation of the impossibility 
of reducing the Americans to subjection. The trading 
interest particularly became very clamorous for peace. 
The ministry were unable longer to oppose their wish- 
es. Provisional articles of peace were agreed to, and 
signed at Pciris on the 30th of November, 1782, by Dr. 
Franklin, Mr. Adams, Mr. Jay, and Mr. Laurens, on 
the part of the United States ; and by Mr. Oswald on 
the part of Great Britain. These formed the basis of 
the definitive treaty, which was concluded the 30th of 
September 1783, and signed by Dr. Franklin, Mr. 
Adams, and Mr. Jay, on the one part, and by Mr. David 
Hartley on the other. 

On the 3d of April 17B3, a treaty of amity and com- 
merce, between the United States and Sweden, was 
concluded at Paris, by Dr. Franklin and the Count Von 
Kruitz. 

A similar treaty with Prussia was concluded in 1775, 
not long before Dr. Franklin's departure from Europe. 

Dr. Franklin did not suffer his political pursuits to 
ensiross his whole attention. Some of his performan- 
ces made their apppearance in Paris. The object of 
these was generally the promotion of industry and 
oeconomy. 

In the year 1784, when animal magnetism made great 
noise in the world, particularly at Paris, it was thought 
a matter of such importance, that the King appointed 
commissioners to examine into the foundation of the 
pretended science. Dr. Franklin was one of the num- 
ber. After a fair and diligent examination, in the course 
of which Mcsmer repeated a number of experiments, 
in the presence of the commissioners, some of which 



130 LIFE OP 

were tried upon themselves, they deterrrtined that it 
was a mere trick, intended to impose upon the ignorant 
and credulous— Mesmer was thus interrupted in his 
career to wealth and fame, and a most insolent attempt 
to impose upon the human understanding bafSed. 

The important ends of Dr. Franklin's mission being 
completed by the establishment of American Indepen- 
dence, and the infirmities of age and disease coming 
upon him, he became desirous of returning to his na* 
tivc country. Upon application to Congress to be re- 
called, Mr. Jefferson was appointed to succeed him, in 
1785. Sometime in Stptember of the same year, Dr. 
Franklin arrived in Philadelphia. He was shortly af- 
ter chosen member of the supreme executive council 
for the city ; and soon after was elected president of the 
same. 

When a Convention was called to meet in Philadel- 
phia, in 1787, for the .purpose of giving more energy 
to the government of the union, by revising and amend- 
ing the articles of confederation. Dr. Franklin was ap- 
pointed a delegate from the state of Pennsylvania. He 
signed the Constitution which they proposed for the 
union, and gave it the most unequivocal marks of his 
approbation. 

A society of political enquiries, of which Dr. Frank- 
lin v/as president, was established about this period. 
The meetings were held at his house.-— Two or three 
essays read in this society were published. It did not 
long continue. 

In the year 1787, two societies were established in 
Philadelphia, founded on principles of the most liberal 
and refined humanity. The Philadelphia Society for al- 
leviating the miseries of public fir is ons ; and the Penn^ 
eylvania Society for promoting the abolition of slavery y 
the relief of free ?iegroes unlawfully held in bondage^ 
and the improvement of the condition of the Jifrican 
race, Ot each of these Dr> Franklin was president.-^ 
The labours of these bodies have been crowned with 
success ; and they continue to prosecute, with unwea- 



DR. FRANKLIN. 131 

ried diligence, the laudable designs for which they 
were established. 

Dr. Franklin's increasing infirmities prevented his 
regular attendance at the council chamber ; and in 1788> 
he retired wholly from public life. 

His constitution had been a remarkable good one. 
He had been little subject to disease, except an attack 
of the gout occasionally, until the year 1781, when he 
was first attacked with the symptoms of the calculous 
complaint, which continued during his life. During the 
intervals of pain from this grievous disease, he spent 
many cheerful hours, conversing in the most agree- 
able and instructive manner. His faculties were en- 
tirely unimpaired, even to the hour of his death. 

His name as president of the Abolition Society, was 
signed to the memorial presented to the house of Re- 
presentatives of the United States, on the 12th of Fe- 
bruary 1789, praying them to exert the full extent of 
power vested in them by the constitution, in discour- 
aging the traffic of the human species. This was his 
last public act. In the debates to which this memorial 
gave rise, several attempts were made to justify the 
trade. In the Federal Gazette of March 25th there 
appeared an essay, signed Historicus, written by Dr. 
Franklin, in which he communicated a speech, said to 
have been delivered in the Divan of Algiers in 1687, 
in opposition to the prayer of the petition of a sect call- 
ed Erika^ or Purist Syior the abolition of piracy and sla- 
very. This pretended African speech was an excel- 
lent parody of one delivered by Mr. Jackson of Geor- 
gia. Ail the arguments urged in favour of negro sla- 
very, are appli<id with equal force to justify the plun- 
dering and enslaving the Europeans. It affords, at the 
same time, a demonstration of the futility of the argu- 
ments in defence of the slave trade, and of the strength 
of mind and ingenuity of the author, at his advanced 
period of life. It furnished too, a no less convincing 
proof of his power of imitating the style of other times 
and nations, than his celebra.ted parable against perse* 



I35J LIFE OF 

GUtion. And as the latter led many to search the scrip- 
tures With a view to find it, so the former caused ma- 
ny persons to search tlie bookstores and libraries, for 
the work from which it was said to be extracted.* 

In the beginning of April following, he was attacked 
with a fever and a complaint of his breast, which termi- 
nated his existence. The following account of his last 
illness was written by his friend and physician, Dr. Jones. 

<' The stone, with which he had been afflicted for se- 
veral years, had for the last twelve months confined 
him chiefly to his bed ; and during the extreme painful 
paroxysms, he was obliged to take large doses of lau- 
danum to mitigate his tortures — still in the intervals of 
pain, he not only amused himself with reading and con- 
versing with his family, and a few friends who visited 
him, but as often employed in doing business of a pub- 
lic as well as private nature, with various persons who 
waited on him for that purpose ; and in every instance 
displayed, not only that readiness and disposition of do- 
ing good, which was the distinguished characteristic of 
his life, but the fullest and clearest possession of his 
uncommon mental abilities ; and not unfrequently in- 
dulged himself in those jeiix d^ esfirit ^nd entertaining 
anecdotes, which were the delight of all who heard him. 

^' About sixteen days before his death, he was seiz- 
ed with ti feverish indisposition, without any particular 
symptoms attending it, till the third or fourth day, when 
be complained of pain in his left breast, which increas- 
ed till it became extremely acute, attended with a cough 
and a laborious breathing. During this state when the 
severity of his pains sometimes drew forth a groan of 
complaint, he w^ould observe — that he was afraid that 
he did not bear them as he ought — acknowledged his 
grateful sense of the many blessings he had received 
from the Supreme Being, who had raised him frona 
amall and low beginnings to such high rank and consi- 
deration among men — and made no doubt but his pre- 
sent afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from 

* This speech will be found in the volume of Essays, 



Ort 



DR. FRANKLIN. 13 

a world, in which he was no longer fit to act the part 
assigned him. In this frame of body and mind he con» 
tinned till five days before his death, when his pain and 
difficulty of breathing entirely left him, and his family 
were flattering themselves with the hopes of his reco- 
very, when an imposthumation, which had formed itself 
in his lungs, suddenly burst, and discharged a great 
quantity of matter, which he continued to throw u 
while he had strength to do it ; but, as that failed, th 
organs of respiration became gradually oppressed — a 
calm lethargic state succeeded, and, on the ITih of 
April, 1790, about eleven o'clock at night, he quietly 
^expired, closing a long and useful life of eighty-four 
vears and three months. 

" It may not be amiss to add to the above account, 
that Dr. Franklin, in the year 1735, had a severe pleu- 
risy, which terminated in an abscess of the left lobe of his 
lungs, and he was then almost suffocated with the quanti- 
ty and suddenness of the discharge. A second attack of a 
similar nature happened some years after this, from 
which he soon recovered, and did not appear to suff'er any 
inconvenience in his respiration from these diseases.*' 

The following Epitaph on himself, was written by 
him many years previous to his death : 

THE BODY 

of 

Benjamin Franklin, Printer, 

(Like the cover of an old Book, 

Its contents torn out 

And stript of its lettering and gilding) 

Lies here food for worms ; 

Yet the work itself shall not be lost, 

For it will (as he believed) appear once more^ 

In a new 

And more beautiful edition 

Corrected and Amended 

by 

The Author. 




134 LIFE OF 

Extracts from the last Will and Testament of Dr. 

Franklin. 

With regard to my Books, those I had in France, 
and those I left in Philadelphia, being now assembled 
together here, and a catalogue made of them, it is my 
intention to dispose of them as follows : 

My History of the Academy of Sciences, in sixty or 
seventy volumes quarto, I give to the philosophical so- 
ciety of Philadelphia, of which I have the honour to be 
president. My collection in folio of JLcs Arts ^ Lea 
Metiers^ I give to the philosophical society, established 
in New-England, of which I am a member. My quar- 
to edition of the same Arts and Metiers^ I give to the 
Library Company of Philadelphia. Such and so many 
of my books as I shall mark, in the said catalogue, with 
jthe name of my grandson, Benjamin Franklin Bache, 
1 do hereby give to him : and such and so many of my 
books as 1 shall mark in the said catalogue with the 
name of my grandson William Bache, 1 do hereby give 
10 him : and such as shall be marked with the name of 
Jonathan Williams, I hereby give to my cousin of that 
name. The residue and remainder of all my books, 
manuscripts a%d papers I do give to my grandson Wil- 
liam Temple Franklin. My share in the library com* 
pany of Philadelphia I give to my grandson Benjamin 
Franklin Bache, confiding that he will permit his bro- 
thers and sisters to share in the use of it. 

I was born in Boston, New-England, and owe my 
first instructions in literature to the free grammai'- 
schools established there. I therefore give one hun- 
dred pounds sterling to my executors, to be by them, 
the survivors or survivor of them, paid over to the 
managers or directors of the free schools in my na- 
tive town of Boston, to be by them, or the person or per- 
sons who shall have the superintendence and manage- 
ment of the said schools, put out to interest, and so con- 
tinued at interest forever; which interest annually shall 
be laid out in silver medals, and given as honorary re- 
x^^ard3 ann\3ally by the direciors.of the said iree schools, 



DR. FRANKLIN. 135 

for the encouragement of scholarship in the said schools, 
belonging to the said town, in such manner as to the 
discretion of the select men of the said town shall seem 
meet. 

Out of the salary that may remain due to me, as 
president of the state, I give the sum of two thousand 
pounds to my executors, to be by them, the survivors 
or survivor of them, paid over to such person or per- 
sons as the legislature of this state, by an act of assem- 
bly, shall appoint to receive the same, in trust, to be 
employed for making the Schuylkill navigable. 

During the number of years I was in business as a 
stationer, printer, and postmaster, a great many small 
sums became due to me, for books, advertisements, 
postage of letters, and other matters, which were not 
collected, when, in 1757, I was sent by the assembly 
to England as their agent— and, by subsequent appoint- 
ments continued there till 1 775— when, on my return, 
I was immediately engaged in the affairs of congress, 
and sent to France in 1776, where I remained nine 
years, not returning till 1785 ; and the said debts not 
being demanded, in such a length of tinae, are become 
in a m.anner obsolete, yet are nevertheless justly due— 
These, as they are stated in my great folio ledger, E, I 
bequeath to the contributors of the Pennsylvania hos- 
pital ; hoping that those debtors, ^nd the descendants 
jof such as are deceased, who now, as I find, make some 
diffiiculty of satisfying such antiquated demands as just 
debts, may however be induced to pay or give them as 
charity to that excellent institution. I am sensible that 
much must inevitably be lest ; but I hope something 
considerable may be recovered. It is possible too that 
some of the parties charged may have existing old un- 
settled accounts against me ; in which case the mana- 
gers of the said hospital will allow and deduct the 
amount, and pay the balance, if they find it against nicu 

I request my friends Henry Hill, Esq. John Jay, Esq. 
Francis Hopkinson, Esq. and Mr. Edward Duffield, of 
Bonfield, in Philadelphia county, to be the executors oi 



13<^ LIFE OF 

this my last will and testament, and I hereby nominate 
and appoint them for that purpose. 

I would have my body buried with as little expencC 
or ceremony as may be. 

Philaddfihia^ July 17, 1788. 

Codicil. 

I Benjamin Franklin, in the foregoing or annexed 
Jast will and testament, having further considered the 
same, do think proper to make and publish the follow* 
ing codicil, or addition thereto : 

It having long been a fixed political opinion of mine, 
that in a democratical state there ought to be no offices 
of profit, for tiie reasons I had given in an article of my 
drawing in our constitution, it was my intention, when 
I accepted the office of president, to devote the appoint- 
ed salary to some public use : According I had alrea- 
dy, before I made my last will, in July last, given large 
sums of it to colleges, schools, building of churches, &c, 
and in that will I bequeathed two thousand pounds more 
to the state, for the purpose of making the Schuylkill 
navigable ; but understanding since, that such a sum 
will do but little towards accomplishing such a work, 
and that the project is not likely to be undertaken for 
many years to come — -and having entertained another 
idea, which I hope may be found more extensively use- 
ful, I do hereby revoke and annul the bequest, and di- 
rect that the certificates I have for what remains due 
to me of that salary, be sold towards raising the sum of 
two thousand pounds sterling, to be disposed of as I am 
now about to order. 

It has been an opinion, that he who receives an es- 
tate from his ancestors, is under some obligation to 
transmit the same to posterity. This obligation lies not 
on me, who never inherited a shilling from any ances- 
tor or relation. I shall, however, if it is not diminished 
by some accident before my death, leave a considerable 
estate among my descendants and relations. The above 
observation is made merely as some apology to my f<^- 



1)1!. FftA.KK:Ll?3f. 137 

miiy, for my making bequests that do not appear to have 
any immediate relation to their advantage. 

I was born in Boston, New-England, and owe my first 
instructions in literature to the free grammar-schools 
established there. I have therefore considered those 
schools in my will. 

But I am under obligations to the state of Massachu- 
setts, for having, unasked, appointed me formerly their 
agent, with a handsome salary, which continued some 
years ; and although I accidently lost in their service, 
by transmitting Governor Hutchinson's letters, much 
more than the amount of what they gave me, I do not 
think that ought in the least to diminish my gratitude- 
I have considered that, among artisans, good apprenti- 
ces are most likely to make good citizens ; and having 
been myself bred to a manual art, printing, in my native 
town, and afterwards assisted to set up my business in 
Philadelphia by kind loans of money from two friends 
there, which was the foundation of my fortune, and of 
all the utility in life that may be ascribed to me — I wish 
to be useful even after my death, if possible, in form- 
ing and advancing other young men, that may be ser- 
viceable to their country in both these towns. 

To this end I devote two thousand pounds sterling, 
which I give, one thousand thereof to the inliabitants of 
the town of Boston, in Massachusetts, and the other 
thousand to the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia, 
in trust, to and for the uses, intents and purposes, here* 
in after mentioned and declared. 

The said sum of one thousand pounds sterling, if ac-r 
cepted by the inhabitants of the town of Boston, shall 
be managed under the direction of the select men, unit- 
ed with the ministers of the oldest episcopalian, con- 
gregational, and presbyterian churches in that town, 
who are to let out the same upon interest at five per 
cent, per annum, to such young married artiticers, un» 
der the age of twenty-five years, as have served an ap- 
prenticeship in the said town, and faithfully fulfilled the 
duties required in their indentures, so as to obtain a good 

M2 



138 LIFE OF 

moral character, from at least two respectable citizens, 
who are willing to become sureties in a bond, with the 
applicants, for the re-payment of the money so lent with 
interest, according to the terms herein after prescribed; 
all which bonds are to be taken for Spanish milled 
dollars, or the value thereof in current gold coin : and 
the managers shall keep a book, or books, wherein shall 
be entered the names of those who shall apply for and 
receive the benefit of this institution, and of their sure- 
ties, together with the sums lent, the dates, and other 
necessary and proper records respecting the business 
and concerns of this institution : and as these loans are 
intended to assist young married artificers in setting up 
their business, they. are to be proportioned by the dis» 
cretion of the managers, so as not to exceed sixty 
pounds, sterling to one person, nor to be less than fifteen 
pounds. 

And if the number of appliers so entitled should be 
so large as that the sum will not sufiice to afford to 
each as much as might otherwise not be improper, the 
proportion to each shall be diminished, so as to afford 
to every one some assistance. These aids may there- 
fore be small at first, but as the capital increases, by 
the accumulated interest, they will be more ample.— 
And in order to serve as many as possible in their turn, 
as well as to make the repayment of the principal bor- 
rowed more easy, each borrower shall be obliged to pay 
with the yearly interest one tenth part of the principal, 
which sums of principal and interest so paid in, shall 
be again let out to fresh borrowers. And it is presum- 
ed, that there will be always found in Boston virtuous 
'^d benevolent citizens, willing to bestow a part of their 
time in doing good to the rising generation, by super- 
intending and managing this institution gratis ; it is 
lioped that no part of the money will at any time lie 
dead, or be diverted to other purposes, but be continu- 
yiy augmenting by the interest, in which case there 
finay in time be more than the occasion in Boston shall 
squire : and then some may be spared to the neigh,- 



DR. FRANKLIN. 139 

bouring or other towns in the said state of Massachu- 
setts, which may desire to have it, such towns engaging 
to pay punctually the interest, and such proportion of 
the principal annually to the inhabitants of the town of 
Boston. If this plan is executed, and succeeds as pro- 
jected, without interruption, for one hundred years, the 
sum will be then one hundred and thirty-one thousand 
pounds; of which I would have the managers of the do- 
nation of the town of Boston then lay out, at their dis- 
cretion, one hundred thousand pounds in public works, 
which may be judged of most general utility to the inha- 
bitants; such as fortifications, bridges, aqueducts, pub- 
lic buildings, baths, pavements, or whatever may make 
living in the town more convenient to its people, and ren- 
der it more agreeable to strangers resorting thither for 
health, or a temporary residence. The remaining thir- 
ty-one thousand pounds I would have continued to be 
let out to interest, in the manner above directed, for one 
hundred years ; as I hope it will have been found that the 
institution has had a good effect on the conduct of youth, 
and been of service to many worthy characters and use- 
ful citizens. At the end of the second term, if no un- 
fortunate accident has prevented the operation, the sum 
will be four millions and sixty-one thousand pounds 
sterling; of which I leave one million and sixty -one 
thousand pounds to the disposition and management of 
the inhabitants of the town of Boston, and the three mil» 
lions to the disposition of the government of the state j 
not presuming to carry my views any farther. 

All the directions herein given respecting the dis-. 
position and management of the donation to the inhabi- 
tants of Boston, I would have observed respecting that 
to the inhabitants of Philadelphia; only, as Philadel- 
phia is incorporated I request the corporation of that 
city to undertake the management, agreeable to the 
said directions ; and I do hereby vest them with fall 
and ample powers for that purpose. And having con- 
sidered that the covering of its ground-plat with build- 
ings and paveraenis, which carry off most rain, and pre- 



140 LIFE OF 

vent it soaking into the earth, and renewing and puri- 
fying the springs, whence the water of the wells must 
gradually grow worse, and in time be unfit for use, as 
I find has happened in all old cities ; I recommend, 
that, at the end of the first hundred years, if not done 
before, the corporation of the city employ a part of the 
hundred thousand pounds in bringhig by pipes the wa- 
ter of Wissahickon-creek into the town, so as to sup« 
ply the inhabitants, which I apprehend may be done 
without great difficulty, the level of that creek being 
much above that of the city, and may be made higher 
by a dam. I also recommend making the Schuylkill 
completely navigable. At the end of the second hun- 
dred years, I would have the disposition of the four 
millions and sixty -one thousand pounds divided between 
the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia and the go- 
vernment of Pennslyvania, in the same manner as herein 
directed with respect to that of the inhabitants of Bos- 
ton and the government of Massachusetts. It is my 
desire that this institution should take place, and begin 
to operate within one year after my disease ; for which 
purpose due notice should be publicly given, previous 
to the expiration of that year, that those for whose be- 
nefit this establishment is intended may make their re- 
spective applications : and I hereby direct my execu- 
tors, the survivors and survivor of them, within six 
months after my decease, to pay over the said sum of 
two thousand pounds sterling to such persons as shall 
be duly appointed by the select men of Boston, and the 
corporation of Philadelphia, to receive and take charge 
of their respective sums of one thousand pounds each 
for the purposes aforesaid. Considering the accidents 
to which all human affairs and projects are subject in 
such a length of time, I have perhaps two much flat- 
tered myself with a vain fancy, that these dispositions, 
if carried into execution, will be continued without in- 
terruption and have the effects proposed ; I hope, hovv^- 
ever, that if the inhabitants of the two cities should not 
think fit to undertake the execution, they will at least. 



DR. TRANKLm. 141 

except the offer of these donations, as marks of my 
good will, tokens of my gratitude, and testimony of my 
desire to be useful to them even after my departure. I 
wish indeed, that they may both undertake to endeavour 
the execution of my project,because I think, that though 
unforeseen difficulties may arise, expedients will be 
found to remove them, and the scheme be found prac- 
ticable. If one of them accepts the money with the 
conditions, and the other refuses, my will then is, that 
both surns be given to the inhabitants of the city ac- 
cepting ; the whole to be applied to the same purposes, 
and under the same regulations directed for the sepa-' 
rate parts ; and if both refuse, the money remains of 
course in the mass of my estate, and it is to be dispos- 
ed of therewith, according to my will made the seven- 
teenth day of July, 1788, 

My fine crab-tree walking-stick, with a gold head 
curiously wrought in the form of the cap of Liberty, I 
gave to my friend, and ihe friend of mankind, General 
Washington. If it were a sceptre, he had merited it, 
5ind would become it, 



se»p 



ESSAYS, 

HUMOUROUS, MORAL AND LITERARY, &c. 

ON EARLY MARRIAGES. 

TO JOHN ALLEYNE, ESC^. 
DEAR JACK, 

TOU desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the 
bubject of an eariy marriage, by way of answer to 
the iiumberless objections that have been made by nu- 
merous persons to your own. You may rt-member, 
when you consulted me on the occasion, that I thoui^^ht 
youth on both sides to be no objection. Indeed, from 
the marriages that have fallen under my observation, 
I am rather inclined to think, that early ones stanr' the 
best chance of happiness. The temper and habits of 
the young are not yet become so stiff and uncomplying, 
as when more advanced in life ; they form more easi- 
ly to each other, and hence many occasions of disgust 
are removed. And if youth has less of that prudence 
which is necessary to manage a family, yet the parents 
and elder friends of young married persons are gener- 
ally at hand to offer their advice, which amply supplies 
that defect ; and by early marriage, youth is sooner 
formed to regular and useful life ; and possibly some 
of those accidents or connections, that might have injur- 
ed the constitution, or reputation, or both, are thereby 
happily prevented. Particular circumstances of par- 
ticular persons, may possibly sometimes make it pru- 
dent to delay entering into that state ; but in general, 
when nature has rendered our bodies fit for it, the pre- 
sumption is in nature's favour, that she has not judged 
amiss in making us desire it. Late marriages are of- 
ten attended, too, with this further inconvenience, that 
there is not the same chance that the parents shall live 



144 ESSAYS. 

to see their offspring educated. « Late children,*' says 
the Spanish proverb, " are early orphans." A melan- 
choly reflection to those whose case it may be ! With 
us in Americai marriages are generally in the morning 
of life ; our children are therefore educated and settled 
in the world by noon ; and thus, our business being 
done, we have an afternoon and evening of cheerful 
leisure to ourselves, such as our friend at present en- 
joys. By these early marriages we are blessed with 
more children ; and from the mode among us, found- 
ed by nature, of every mother suckling and nursing her 
own child, more of them are msed. Tiience the swift 
progress of population among us, unparalleled in Eu- 
rope. In fine, I am glad you are married and congra- 
tulate you most cordially upon it. You are now in the 
way of becoming a useful citizen : and you have escap- 
ed the unnatural state of celibacy for life — the fate of 
many here, who never intended it, but who having too 
long postponed the change of their condition, find, at 
length, that it is too late to think of it, and so live all 
their lives in a situation that greatly lessens a man's 
value. An odd volume of a set of books bears not the 
value of its proportion to the set : what think you of 
the odd half of a pair of scissors ? it can't well cut any 
thing ; it may possibly serve to scrape a trencher. 

Pray make my compliments and best wishes accep- 
table to your bride. I am old ana heavy, or I should 
ere this have presented them in person. I shall niake 
but small use of the old man's privilege, that of giving 
advice to younger friends. Treat your wife always with 
respect ; it will procure respect to you, not only from 
her, but from all that observe it. Never use a slight- 
ing expression to her, even in jest ; for slights in jestf 
after frequent bandyings, are apt to end in anger earn- 
est. Be studious in your profession, and you will be 
learned. Be industrious and frugal, aiid you wili be 
rich. Be sober and temperate, and you will be healt'iy. 
Be in general virtuous and you wiil be bappy. At kuSt> 
you will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for 



ESSAy§. 145 

such consequences. I pray God to bless you both 1 
being ever your affectionate friend, 

B, FRAKKLIN. 

ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER, 
Mr. JOHN FRANKLIN. 

TO MISS HUBBARD. 

I CONDOLE, with you. We have lost a most dear 
and valuable relation. But it is the will of God and na- 
ture, that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the 
soul is to enter into real life. This is rather an embryo 
state, a preparation for living. A man is not complete- 
ly born until he be dead. Why then should we grieve 
that a new child is born among the immortals, a new 
member added to their happy society ? We are spir- 
its. That bodies should be lent us, while they can af- 
ford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or 
doing good to our fellow-creatures, is a kind and bene- 
volent act of God. When they become unfit for these 
purposes, and afford us pain instead of pleasure ; in- 
stead of an aid become an incumbrance, and answer none 
of the intentions for which they were given, it is equal- 
ly kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which 
we may get rid of them* Death is that way. We our- 
selves, in some cases, prudently choose a partial death. 
A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we 
willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts 
with it freely, since the pain goes with it ; and he who 
quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and 
possibilities of puin and diseases, it was liable to, or ca- 
pable of making him suffer. 

Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of 
pleasure, which is to last for ever. His chair was rea- 
dy first ; and he is gone before us. We could not all 
conveniently start together : and why should you and I 
be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know 
where to find iiim ? Adieu, 

B. FRANKLIN. 
N 



146 ESSAYS. 

TO THE LATE 

Dr. MATHER OF BOSTON, 
HEV. SIR, 

I RECEIVED your kind letter, with your excellent 
advice to the United States, which I read with great 
pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such 
writhigs, though they may be lightly passed over by 
many readers, yet, if they make a deep impression on 
one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be con- 
siderable. 

Permit me to mention one little instance, which, 
though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninter- 
esting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book 
entitled, " Essays to do good," which I think was writ- 
ten by your father. It had been so little regarded by a 
former possessor, that several leaves of it were torn out; 
but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking, as 
to have an influence on my conduct through life : for I 
have always set a greater value on the character of a 
doer of good, than any other kind of reputation ; and if 
I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the 
public owes the advantage of it to that book. 

You mention your being hi your seventy-eighth year. 
I am in my seventy^ninth. We are grown old toge- 
ther. It is now more than sixty years since I left Bos- 
tjon ; but I remember well both your father and grand- 
father, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen 
them in their houses. The last time I saw your father 
ivas in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after 
my first trip to Pennsylvania : he received me in his 
library ; and on my taking leave, shewed me a shorter 
way out of the house, through a narrow passage, which 
was crossed by a beam over head. We were still talk- 
ing as I withdrew* he accompanying me behind, and I 
turning partly towards him, when he said hastily. 
" Stoop Stoop !** I did not understand him till I felt 
my head hit against the beam. He was a man who ne» 
ver missed any occasion of giving instruction; and upon 
this he said to me ; " You are young, and have the 



ESSAtS. 147 

'ivorid before you : stoop as you go through it, and you 
will miss many hard thumps." This advice, thus beat 
into my heart, has frequently been of use to me ; and 
I often think of it, when I see pride mortified, and mis- 
fortunes brought upon people by their carrying their 
heads too high. 

I long much to see again my native place ; and once 
hoped to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723. i vis- 
ited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763; and in 1773 I 
was in England. In 1775, I had a sightof it, but could 
not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. I cid 
hope to have been tiiere in 1783, but could not obtain 
my dismission from this employment here ; and now 
I fear I shall never have that happiness. My best 
wishes hov/ever attend my dear country, " esto fierftet^ 
iia.^* It is now blessed with an excellent constitution : 
may it last forever ! 

This powerful monarchy continues its friendship fof 
the United States. It is a frifndship of the utmost 
importance to our security, and should be carefully 
cultivated. Britain has not yet well digested the loss 
of its dominions over us ; and has still at times some 
flattering hopes of recovering it. Accidents may in- 
crease those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. 
A breach between us and France would infallibly bring 
the English again upon our b;;cks ; and yet we have- 
some wild beasts among our countrymen, who are en- 
deavouring to weaken that connection. 

Let us preserve our reputation, by performing our 
engagements ; our credit by fulfilling our contracts ; 
and our friends by gratitude and kindness ; for we know 
not how soon we may again have occasion for all of them. 
With great and sincere esteem, 
I have the honour to be. 
Reverend Sir, 

Your most obedient and 

most humble servant, 

Fassy, May 12^ I B. FRANKLIN, 

1784. 



148 JESSAYS. 

THE WHISTLE— A TRUE STORY. 

WRITTEN TO HIS NEPHEW. 

WHEN I was a child, at seven years old, my friends 
©n a holiday, filled my pockets with coppers, I went 
directly to a shop where they sold toys for children ; 
and being charmed with the sound of a whistle^ that I 
met by the way in the hands of another boy, I volunta- 
rily offered him all my money for one. I then came 
home, and went whistling all over the house, much 
pleased with my whistle^ but disturbing all the family. 
My brothers and sisters, and cousins, understanding 
the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times 
as much for it as it was v/orth. This put me in mind 
what good things I might have bought with the rest of 
my money ; and they laughed at me so much for my 
folly, that I cried with vexation ; and the reflection gave 
me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. 

This however was afterwards of use to me, the im» 
pression continuing on my mind : so that often, when 
I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said 
to myself, Don^t give too much for the whistle ; and so 
I saved my money. 

As I grew up. came into the world, and observed the 
actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, 
^who gave too much for the whistle. 

When 1 saw any one two ambitious of court-favours, 
sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, 
his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends to attain 
it, I have said to myself. This man gives too much for 
his whistle. 

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly 
employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his 
own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect : He pays 
indeed^ says I, too much for his whistle. 

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of com- 
fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, 
all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of 
benevolent friendship, for the sake of ftccumuluting 



ESSAYS. 149 

wealth : Poor man^ says I, you do indeed pay too muck 
ffor your whistle. 

When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every 
laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, 
to mere corporeal sensations ; Mistaken man, says I, 
you are providing /lain /or yourself] instead qffileasure ; 
you give too much for your %vhistle» 

If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine 
equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts 
tlebts, and ends his career in prison ; ^las, says I, he 
has paid dear^ very dear^for his whistle. 

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl, marri- 
ed to an ill-natured brute of a husband ; What a pity 
^i 2-5, says I, that she has paid so much/or a whistle. 

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries 
of mankind were brought upon them by the false esti- 
mates they had made of the value of things, and by thei? 
giving too much for their whistles. 



A PETITION 

TO THOSE WHO HAVE THE SUPERINTENI>ENCY OF 

EDUCATION. 

I ADDRESS myself to all the friends of youth, and 
conjure them to direct their compassionate regards to 
my unhappy fate, in order to remove the prejudices of 
which I am the victim. There are twin sisters of us ; 
and the two eyes of man do not more resemble, nor are 
capable of being upon better terms with each other, 
than my sister and myself, were it not for the partiality 
of our parents, who make the most injurious distinc- 
tions between us. From my infancy I have been led 
to consider my sister as a being of a more elevated 
rank. I was suffered to grow up without the least in- 
struction, while nothing was spared in her educatiour 
She had masters to teach her writing, drawing, music^ 
and other accomplishments ; but if by chance I touch- 
fid a pencil, a pen, or a needle, I was bitterly rebuked r 

N 2 



150 * ESSAYS. 

V 

and more than once I have been beaten for being auk- 
ward, and wanting a graceful nianner. It is true, my 
sister associated me with her upon some occasions ; but 
she always made a point of taking the lead, calling up- 
on me only from necessity, or to figure by her side. 

But conceive not, Sirs, that my complaints are insti- 
gated merely by vanity — No ; my uneasiness is occa- 
sioned by one object much more serious. It is the 
practice in our family, that the whole business of pro- 
viding for its subsistence falls upon my sister and my«- 
self. If any indisposition should attack my sister — and 
I mention it in confidence, upon this occasion, that she 
is subject to the gout, the rheumatism and cramp, with- 
out making mention of other accidents — what would 
be the fate of our poor family ? Must not the regret 
of our parents be excessive, at having placed so great 
a difference between sisters who are perfectly equal 1 
Alas 1 we must perish from distress : for it would not 
be in my power even to scrawl a suppliant petition for 
relief, having been obliged to employ the hand of 
another in transcribing the request which I have now 
the honour to prefer to you. 

Condescend, Sirs, to make my parents sensible of 
the injustice of an exclusive tenderness, and of the ne- 
cessity of distributing their care and affection among 
all their children equally. 

I am, with a profound respect, 
Sirs, 

Your obedient servant, 

THE LEFT HAND. 



THE HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG. 

THERE are two sorts of people in the world, who 
svith equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other 
::omforts of life, become the one happy, and the other 
iniserable. This arises very much from the different 

tivV^s in which they consider things, persons, anc^ 



ESSAYS. 151 

events ; and the effect of those different views upoa 
their own minds. 

In whatever situation men can be placed, they may 
find conveniencies and inconveniencies ; in whatever 
company, they may find persons and conversation more 
or less pleasing ; at whatever table, they may meet 
with meats and drinks of better and worse taste, dishes 
better and worse dressed : in whatever climate they 
will find good and bad weather : under whatever go- 
vernment, they may find good and bad laws, and good 
and bad administration of those laws : in whatever 
poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and beau- 
ties : in almost every face, and every person, they 
may discover fine features and defects, good and bad 
qualities. 

Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people ' 
above-mentioned, fix their attention, those who are dis* 
posed to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the 
pleasant parts of conversation, the well-dressed dishes, 
the goodness of the wines, the fine weather, Sec. and 
enjoy all with cheerfulness. Those who are to be un- 
happy, think and speak only of the contraries. Hence 
they are continually discontented themselves, and by 
their remark, sour the pleasures of society; offend 
personally, many people, and make themselves every 
where disagreeable. If this turn of mind was founded 
in nature, such unhappy persons would be the more to 
be pitied. But as the disposition to criticise, and to 
be disgusted, is perhans, taken up originally by imita- 
tion, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, which, though 
at present strong, may nevertheless be cured, when 
those who have it are convinced of its bad effects on 
their felicity ; I hope this little admonition may be of 
service to them, and put them on changing a habit, 
which, though in the exercise, it is chiefly an act of 
imagination, yet has serious consequences in life, as it 
brings on real griefs and misfortunes. For as many 
are offended by, and nobody loves this sort of people; 
no one shows tliem more than die most common civility 



152 ESSAYS. 

and respect, and scarcely that ; and this frequently puts 
them out of humour, and draws them into disputes and 
contentions. If they aim at obtaining some advantage 
in rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will 
stir a step, or speak a word to favour their pretensions* 
If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will de- 
fend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their mis- 
conduct, and render them completely odious : If these 
people will not change this bad habit, and condescend 
to be pleased with what is pleasing, without fretting 
themselves and others about the contraries, it is good 
for others to avoid an acquaintance with them ; which 
is always disagreeable, and sometimes very inconveni- 
ent, especially when one finds one's self entangled in 
their quarrels. 

An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from 
experience, very cautious in this particular, and care- 
fully avoided any intimacy with such people. He had, 
like other philosophers, a thermometer to shew him 
the heat of the weather; and a barometer to mark 
when it was likely to prove good or bad ; but there be- 
ing no instrument invented to discover, at first sight, 
this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for that pur- 
pose, made use of his legs ; one of which was remar- 
kably handsome, the other, by some accident crooked 
and deformed. If a stranger, at the first interview, re- 
garded his ugly leg more than his handsome one, he 
doubted him. If he spoke of it, and took no notice of 
the handsome leg, that was sufficient to determine my 
philosopher to have no further acquaintance with him. 
Every body has not this two legged intrument ; but 
every one, with a little attention, may observe signs of 
that carping, fault finding disposition, and take the same 
resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those infect* 
ed with it. I therefore advise those critical, queru- 
lous, discontented, unhappy people, that if they wish to 
be respected and beloved by others, and happy in them- 
selves, they should leave off looking at the ugly le^. 



ESSAYS. 1^3 

CONVERSATION 

OF A 

COMPANY OF EPHEMER-S: ; 

WITH THE SOLILOQ^UY OF ONE ADVANCED IN AGE. 

To Madame Brilliant. 

YOU may remember, my dear friend, that when we 
lately spent that happy duy, in the delightful garden 
and sweet society of the Moulin Joly^ I stopt a little in 
one of our walks, and staid some time behind the com- 
pany. We had been shewn numberless skeletoas of a 
kind of little fly, called an Ephemerae, whose successive 
generations, we are told, were bred and expired within 
the day, I happened to see a living company of them 
on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. 
You know I understand all the inferior ai imal tongues i 
my too great application to the study of them, it is the 
best excuse I can give for the little progress I have 
made in your charming language. I listened through 
curiosity to the discourse of these little creatures ; but 
as they, in their natural vivacity, spoke three or four 
together, I could make but little of their conversation. 
I found, however, by some broken expressions that I 
heard now and then, they were disputing warmly on 
the merit of two foreign musicians, the one a cousin^ 
the other diinuacheto ; in which dispute they spent their 
time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life 
as they had been sure of living a month. Happy peo- 
ple, thought I, you live certahily under a wise, just and 
mild government, since you have no public grievances 
to complain of, nor any subject of contention, but the 
perfections or imperfections of foreign music. 1 turn- 
ed my head from them to an old grey-headed one, who 
was single on another leaf, and talking to himself. Be- 
ing amused with his soliloquy, 1 put it down in writing, 
in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am 
so much indebted for the most pleasing of all amuse- 
ments, her delicious company^ and heavenly harn^ony. 



154 ESSAYS. 

" It Atas," says he, " the opinion of learned philoso- 
phers of our race, who lived and flourished long before 
my time, that this vast world the Moulin Joly could not 
itself subsist more than eighteen hours ; and I think 
there was some foundation for that opinion *, since, by 
the apparent motion of the great luminary, that gives 
life to all nature, and which in my time has evidently 
declined considerably towards the ocean at the end of 
our earth, it must then finish its course, be extinguish- 
ed in the waters that surround us, and leave the world 
in cold and darkness, necessarily producing universal 
death and destruction. I have lived seven of those 
hours ; a great age, being no less than 420 minutes of 
time. How very few of us continue so long i I have 
seen generations born, flourish, and expire. My pre- 
sent friends are the chiidrtn and grand-children of the 
friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more ! And 
I must soon follow them^ for, by the course of nature, 
though still in health, I cannot expect to live above se- 
ven or eight minutes longer. What now avails all my 
toil and labour, in amassing honey -dew on this lea^ 
which 1 cannot live to enjoy ! What the political strug- 
gles I have been engaged in, for the good of my com- 
patriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical stu- 
dies, for the benefit of our race in s^eneral ! for in poli- 
tics (what can laws do without m#als ?) our present 
race of Ephemerae will in a course of minutes become 
corrupt, like those of other and older bushes, and con- 
sequently as wretched : And in philosophy how small 
our progress ! Alas 1 art is long and life is short ! My 
friends would comfort me witli tne idea of a name, they 
Say, I shall leave behind me ; and they tell me 1 have 
lived long enough to nature and to glory. But what 
will fame be to an Ephemerae who no longer exists I 
And what will become of all history in the eighteenth 
hour, when the world itstif, even the whole Moulin Jo- 
lyy shall come to its enu, and be buritd in universal 
ru^n V- 



ASSAYS. IS5 

To me, after all my eager pursuits, no st)lid pleasures 
now remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in 
meaning well, the sensible conversation of a few good 
l^dy Ephemerae, and now and then a kind smile and a 
Ume from the ever amiable Brilliant. 

B FRANKLIN. 



MORALS OF CHESS. 

PLAYING at chees is the most ancient and most 
universal game known among men ; for its original is 
beyond the memory of history, and it has, for number- 
less ages, been the amusement of all the civilized na- 
tions of Asia, the Persians, the Indians, and the Chinese. 
Europe has had it above a thousand years ; the Spani- 
ards have spread it over their part of America, and it 

b( i^ins lately to make its appearance in these states. 

Ii Is so interesting in itself, as to not need the view of 
gain to induce engaging in it ; and thence it is never 
played for money. Those, therefore, who have leisure 
for such diversions, cannot find one that is more inno- 
cent ; and the following piece, written with a view to 
correct (among a few young friends) some little impro- 
prieties in the practice of it, shews, at the same time, 
that it may, in its effects on the mind, be not mci eiy 
innocent, but advantageous, to the vanquished as well 
as the victor. 

The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement. 
S verai valuable qualities of the mind, useful in the 
course of human life, are to be acquired or strengthen- 
ed by it, so as to become habits, ready on all occasions. 
For life is a kind of chess, in which we have often points 
to gain, and competitors or adversaries to contend with, 
and in which there is a vast variety of good and ill 
events, that are, in some degree, the effects of prudcixe 
or the want of it. By playing at chess, then, we may 
learn, 

I. Foresight, which looks a little into futurity, and 
considers the consequences that may attend an ^ction ; 



156 ESSAYS. 

for it is continually occurring to the player, ^< If I move 
this piece, what will be the advantage of my new situa- 
tion ? What use can my adversary make of it to annoy 
me ? What other moves can I make to support it, and 
to defend myself from his attacks ?" 

II. Circumsfiection^ which surveys the whole chess 
board, or scene of action, the relations of the several 
pieces and situations, the dangers they are respective- 
ly exposed to, the several possibilities of their aiding 
each other, the probabilities that the adversary may take 
this or that move, and attack this or the other piece, 
and what different means can be used to avoid his stroke, 
or turn its consequences against him. 

III. Caution^ not to make our moves too hastily. This 
habit is best acquired by observing strictly the laws of the 
game, such as, " If you touch a piece, you must move it 
<' somewhere ; if you set it down, you must let it stand ;'* 
and it is therefore best that these rules should be ob- 
served, as the game thereby becomes more the image 
of human life, and particularly of war ; in which, if you 
have incautiously put yourself into a bad and danger- 
ous position, you cannot obtain your enemy's leave to 
withdraw your troops, and place them more securely, 
but you must abide all the consequences of your rash- 
ness. 

And, lastly, we learn by chess the habit of not being 
discouraged py present bad appearances in the state of 
our affairs'^ the habit o^ hoping for a favourable change^ 
and that oi persevering m the search of resources. The 
game is so full of events, there is such a variety of turns 
in it, the fortune of it is so subject to sudden vicissi- 
tudes, and one so frequently, after long contemplation, 
discovers the means of extricating oneself from a sup- 
posed insurmountable difficulty, that one is encouraged 
to continue the contest to the last, in hopes of victory by 
our own skill, or at least giving a stale mate, by the 
negligence of our adversary. And whoever considers, 
what in chess he often sees instances of that pt;rticular 
pieces qf success are apt to produce presumption, and 



ESSAYS. 107 

its consequent inattention, by which the Joss may be re- 
covered, will learn not to be too much discouraged by 
the present success of his adversary, nor to despair oi* 
final good fortune, upon every little check he receives 
in pursuit of it. 

That we may therefore be induced more frequently 
to choose this beneficial amusement, in preference to 
others, which are not attended with the same advanta- 
ges, every circumstance which may increase the plea-. 
sures of it should be regarded ; and every action or 
word that is unfair, disrespectful, or that in any way 
may give uneasiness, should be avoided, as contrary to 
the immediate intention of both the players, which is to 
pass the time agreeably. 

Therefore, first. If it is agreed to play according to 
the strict rules ; then those rules are to be exactly ob- 
served by both parties, and should not be insisted oiv 
for one side, while deviated from by the other — for this 
is not equitable. 

Secondly, If it is agreed not to observe the rules ex- 
actly, but one party demands indulgences, he should 
then be as willing to allow them to the other. 

Thirdly, No false move should ever be made to ex- 
tricate yourself out of a difficulty, or to gain an advan- 
tage. There can be no pleasure in playing with a per- 
son once detected in such unfair practice. 

Fourthly, If your adversary is long in playing, you 
ought not to hurry him, or express any uneasiness at 
his delay. You should not sing, nor whistle, nor look 
at your watch, nor take up a book to read, nor make a 
tapping with your feet on the floor, or with your fingers 
on the table, nor do any thing that may disturb his at- 
tention. For all these things displease, and they do 
not shew your skill in playing, but your craftiness or 
your rudeness. 

Fifthly, You ought not to endeavour to amuse and 
■deceive your adversary, by pretending to have made 
bad moves, and saying that you have now lo^.t the garriej 
in order to make him secure and careless, and inatten- 

O 



158 ESSAYS. 

tive to your schemes ; for this is fraud and deceit, not 
skill in the game. 

Sixthly, You must not, when you have gained a victo* 
ry, use any triumphing or insulting expression, nor 
show too much pleasure ; but endeavour to console 
your adversary, and make him less dissatisfied with 
himself, but every kind of civil expression that may be 
used with truth, such as, " You understand the game 
better than I, but, you are a little inattentive;" or, 
"You play too fast;" or, "you had the best of the 
game, but something happened to divert your thoughts, 
and that turned it in my favour." 

Seventhly, If you are a spectator while others play, 
observe the most perfect silence. For if you give 
advice, you offend both parties; him againj^t whom you 
give it, because it may cause the loss of his game ; 
him in whose favour you give it, because, though it be 
good and he follows it, he loses the pleasure he nvight 
have had, if you had permitted him to think until it 
had occured to himself. Even after a move, or moves, 
you must not by replacing the pieces, show how it 
might have been placed better : for that displeases, and 
may occasion disputes and doubts about their true si- 
tuation. All talking to the players lessons or diverts 
their attention, and is therefore unpleasing. Nor should 
you give the least hint to either party, by any kind of 
noise or motion. If you do, you are unworthy to be a 
spectator. If you have a mind to exercise or show 
your judgment, do it in playing your own game, when 
you have an opportunity, not in criticising, or meddling 
with, or counselling the play of others. 

Lastly, If the game is not to be played rigorously, 
according to the rules above mentioned, then moderate 
your desire of victory over your adversary, and be pleas- 
ed with one over yourself. Snatch not eagerly at eve- 
ry advantage offered by his unskilfulness or inatten- 
tion ; but point out to him kindly, that by such a move 
he places or leaves a piece in danger and unsupported ; 
that by another he will put his Ring in a perilous sii\i%r 



l&SSAYS. 159 



tlon, Sec, By tliis generous civility (so bpposite to the 
unf^iirness above forbidden) you may, indeed, happen, 
to lose the game to your opponent, but you v^^ill win what 
is better, his esteem, his respect, and his affection ; to- 
gether with the silent approbation and good wili of im* 
partial spectators. 



THE ART OF PROCURING PLEASANT DR^EAMS. 

INSCRIBED. TO MISS * * * * *^ 

JBei7i^ -written at her request. 

AS a great part of our life is spent in sleep, during- 
which we have sometimes pleasing, and sometimes pain- 
ful dreams, it becomes of some consequence to obtain 
the one kind, and avoid the other ; for whether real or 
imaginary, pain is pain and pleasure is pleasure. If 
we can sleep without dreaming, it is well that painful 
dreams are avoided. If, v/hile we sleep w^e can have 
pleasing dreams, it is, as the French say, taJite g<y^nc 
so much added to the Dleasure of life. 

To this end it is, in the first place, necessary to be' 
careful in preserving health, by due exercise, and j.^reat 
temperance ; for, in sickness, the imagination is dis- 
turbed ; and disagreeable, sometimes terrible ideas are 
apt to present themselves. Exercise should precede 
meals, not imm-ediateiy follow tliem ; the first, pro- 
motes, the latter, unless moderate, obstructs digestion. 
If, after exercise, we feed sparingly, the cligestion will 
be easy and good, the body lightsome, the t.eirijper cheer- 
ful, and all the animal functions perform vCl agreeably. 
Sleep when it follows, will be natural unci ui/disturbed. 
While indolence, v;ith full feeding, occasion nightmares 
and horrors inexpressible ; we fall from precipices, 
are assaulted by wild beasts, murderers, and demons, 
and experience every variety of distress. Observe, 
however, that the quantities of food and exercise are 
relative things ; those who move much, may, and in- 
deed ought to eat more ; those who use little exercise, 
should eat little. In general) mankind, since the im- 



160 ^ ESSAYS. 

provement of cookery, eat about twice as much as na- 
ture requires. Suppers are not bad, it we have not din- 
ed ; but restless nights naturally follow hearty suppers, 
after full dinners. Indeed, as there is a difference in 
constitutions, some rest well after these meals ; it costs 
them only a frightful dream, and an apoplexy, after 
•which they sleep till doomsday. Nothing is more com- 
mon in the newspapers, than instances of people, who, 
after eating a hearty supper, are found dead a-bed in 
the morning. 

Another means of preserving health, to be attended 
to, is the having a constant supply of fresh air in your 
!)ed- chamber. It has been a great mistake, the sleep- 
ing in rooms exactly closed, and in beds surrounded 
by curtuins. No outward air, that may come into you, 
is so unv/holesome as the unchanged air, often breath- 
ed, of a close chamber. As boiling water does not 
grow hotter by long boiling, if the particles that re- 
ceive greater heat can escape ; so living bodies do not 
putrify, if the particles, as fast as they become pu- 
trid, ran he thrown off. Nature expels them by the 
pores of the skin and lungs, and in a free, open air, 
ihcy are carried off : but in a close room, we receive 
them again and again, though they become more and 
more corrupt. A number of persons crowded into a 
->mail room, thus spoil the air in a few minutes, and 
even render it m.ortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcut- 
ta. A single person is said to spoil only a gallon of air 
per minute, and therefore requires a longer time to 
spoil a chamber-fuU ; but it is done, however in pro- 
portion, and many putrid disorders hence have their 
origin. It is recorded of Methusalem, who, being the 
longest liver, may be supposed to have best preserved 
his health, that he slept always in the open air ; for, 
v/hcn he had lived five hundred years, an angel said 
to him : " Arise, Methusalem, and build thee an house, 
for thou shalt live yet five hundred years longer." But 
Methusalem answered and said : " If I am to live but 
five hundred years longer, it is not worth while to build 



ESSAYS. • i61 

me an house — I will sleep in the air 'as I have been^ 
used to do.'* Physicians, after having for ages con- 
tended that the sick should not be indulged with fresh 
air, have at length discovered that it may do them good. 
It is therefore to be hoped that they may in time dis- 
cover likewise that it is not hurtful to those who are in 
health : and that we may be then cured of the aeropho- 
bia that at present distresses weak minds, and make 
thefn choose to be stifled and poisoned, rather than 
leave open the windows of a bed-chamber, or put down 
the glass of a coach. 

Confined air, when saturated with perspirable mat- 
ter,* will not receive more ; and that matter must re- 
main in our bodies and occasion diseases : but it gives 
some previous notice of its being about to be hurtful, 
by producing certain uneasiness, slight indeed at firsts 
such as, with regard to the lung&, is a trifling sensa- 
tion, and to the pores of the skin a kind of restlessness 
which is difiicult to describe, and few that feel it know 
the cause of it. But we may recollect, that sometimes 
on walking in the night, w^e have, if warmly covered,, 
found it diflicult to get asleep again. We turn often 
without finding repose in any position* This figgetti° 
ness, to use a vulgar expression for want of a better, is- 
occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the skin, owing 
to the retention of the perspirable matter ; the beci 
clothes having received their quantity, and being satu- 
rated, refusing to take any more. To become sensi- 
ble of this by an experiment, let a person keep hi^ po- 
sition in the bed, but throw off the bed-clothes, and suf- 
fer fresh air to approach the part uncovered of his bo- • 
dy ; he will then feel that part suddenly refreshed ; for 
the air will immediately relieve the skin, by^ receivings 
licking up, and carrying off, the load of perspirable 
matter that incommoded it. For every portion of cool 

• 

* What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that \a» 
pour which passes off from our bodies, from the lungs, andu 
through the pores of the skin. The quantity of this is said' 
to. be five-eights of what we eat. 

O ^ 



iDiJ ' ESSAYS. 

air that approaches the warm skin, in receiving its purt 
of that vapour, receives therewith a degree of heat that 
rarifies and renders it lighter when, it will be pushed 
away, with its burthen by cooler, and therefore heavier 
fresh air ; which, for a moment, supplies its place, and 
then, being likewise changed, and warmed, gives way 
to a succeeding quantity. This is the order of nature, 
to prevent animals being infected by their own perspi- 
ration. He will now be sensible of the difference" be- 
tween the part exposed to the air, and that which, re- 
maining sunk in the bed, denies the aira ccess; for this 
part now manifests its uneasiness more distinctly by 
the comparison, and the seat of the uneasiness is more 
plainly perceived, than when the whole surface of the 
body was effected by it. 

Here then, is one great and general cause of unplea- 
sing dreams. For when the body is uneasy, the mind 
will be disturbed by it, and disagreeable ideas of vari- 
ous kinds, will, in sleep, be the natural consequences. 
The remedies, preventative, and curative, follow: 

1. By eating modorately, (as before advised for 
health's sake) less perspirable matter is produced in a 
given time ; hence the bed clothes receive it longer 
before they ar(S saturated ; and we may, therefore, sleep 
longer, before we are made uneasy by their refusing to 
receive any more. 

2. By using thinner and more porous bed-clothes, 
vrhich will suffer the perspirable matter more easily to 
pass through them, we are less incommoded, such be- 
ing longer tolerable. 

3. When you are awakened by this uneasiness, and 
find you cannot easily sleep again, get out of bed, beat 
up and turn your pillow, shake the bed clothes well, 
with at least twenty shakes, then throw the bed open, 
and leave it to cool ; in the meatiwhile, continuing un- 
drest, walk about your chamber, till your skin has had 
time to discharge its load, which it will do sooner as the 
air may be drier and colder. When you begin to feel 
the cold air unpleasant? then return to your bed ; and 



ESSAYS, 162 

you will soon fall asleep, and your sleep will be sweet 
and pleasant. As the scenes presented to your fan- 
cy, will be of the pleasing kind. I am often as agree- 
ably entertained with them, as by the scenery of an 
opera. If you happen to be too indolent to get out of 
bed,you may, instead of it, lift up yourbed-clothes with 
one arm and leg, so as to draw in a good deal of fresh 
air, and by letting them fall, force it out again. This, 
repeated twenty times, will so clear them of the per- 
spirable matter they have imbibed, as to permit your 
sleeping well for some time afterwards. But this lat- 
ter method is not equal to the former. 

Those who do not love trouble, and can afford to 
have two beds, will find great luxury in rising, when 
they awake in a hot bed, and going into the cool one. 
Such shifting of beds would also be of great service to 
persons ill of a fever, as it refreshes and frequently pro- 
cures sleep. A very large bed, that will admit a re- 
moval so distant from the first situation as to be cool 
and sweet, may in a degree answer the same end. 

One or too observations more will conclude this lit- 
tle piece. Care must be taken, when you lie down, to 
dispose your pillow so as to suit your manner of plac- 
ing your head, and to be perfectly easy ; then place 
your limbs so as not to bear inconveniently hard upon 
one another, as, for instance, the joints of your ancles : 
for though a bad position may at first give but little 
pain, and be hardly noticed, yet a continuance will ren- 
der it less tolerable, and the uneasiness may come on 
while you are asleep, and disturb your imagination. 

These are the rules of the art. But though they will 
generally prove effectual in producing the end intend- 
ed, there is arfcase in which the most punctual observ- 
ance of them will be totally fruitless. I need not 
mention the case to you my dear friend : but my ac- 
count of the art would be imperfect without it. The 
case is, when the person who desires to have pleasant 
dreams has not taken care to preserve, what is neces- 
sary above all things, a good conscience. 



164 ESSAYS. 

ADVICE TO A YOUNG TR \T>ESMA^\ 

r 

WRITTEN ANNO 1/48. 
To 7ny friend A. B. 

As you have desired it of me, I write the following' hinls^ 
which have been of service to me, and may, if observed, be 
so to you. 

REMEMBER that time is money. He that can earn 
ten shillings a day by his labour, and goes abroad, or 
sits idle one half of that day, though he spends but six- 
pence during bis diversion or idleness, ought not to 
reckon that the only expence ; he has really spent, or 
rather thrown away, live shillings besides. 

Remenaber that credit is money. If a man lets his- 
nioney lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the 
interest, or so much as 1 can make of it during that 
time. This amounts to a considerable sum when a 
man has good and large credit, and makes good use 
of it. 

Remember that money is of a prolific generating na- 
ture. Money can beget money, and its offspring can be- 
get more, and so on. Five shillings turned is six ; turn- 
ed again, it is seven and three-pence ; and so on till it 
becomes an hundred pounds. The more there is of it> 
the more it produces, every turning, so that the pro- 
fits rise quicker and quicker. He that kills a breeding 
sow, destroys all her offspring to the thousandth gen- 
eration. He that murders a crown, destroys all that 
it might have produced, even scores of pounds. 

Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a 
day. For this little sum, which may be daily wasted 
either in time or expepce, unperceived, a man of credit 
may, on his own security, have the constant possession 
and use of an hundred pounds. So much in stock 
briskly turned by an industrious man, produces great 
advantage. 

Remember this saying, "The good paymaster 145 
brd of another man's purse." He that is known to pay 



ESSAYS. 165 

punctually and exactly to the time he promises, may at 
any time, and on any occasion, raise ail the money his 
friends can spare. This is sometimes of great use.— 
After industry and frugality, nothing contributes more 
to the raising of a young man in the world, than punc- 
tuality and justice in all his dealings : therefore never ' 
keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you 
promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's 
purse forever. 

The most trifling actions that can aifect a man's cre- 
dit are to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at 
five in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a cre- 
ditor makes him easy six months longer ; but if he sees 
you at a billiard table, or hears your voice at a tavern 
when you should be at work, he sends for his money 
ttie next day; demands it before he can receive it in a 
lump. 

It shews, besides, that you are mindful of what you 
owe ; it makes you appear a careful, as well as an ho- 
nest man, and that still increases your credit. 

Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, 
and of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many 
people who have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep 
an exact account for some time, both of your expences 
and your income. If you take the pains at first to men- 
tion particulars, it will have this good effect ; you 
will discover how wonderfully small trifling expences 
mount up to large sums, and will discern what might 
have been, and may for the future be saved, without 
occasioning any great inconvenience. 

In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as 
plain as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two 
words, industry and frugality ; that is, waste neither 
time nor money ^ but make the best use of both. With- 
out industry and frugality nothing will do, and with 
them every thing. He that gets all he can honestly, 
and saves all he gets, (necessary expences excepted) 
will certainly become rich — if that Being who governs 
the world, to whom ail should look for a blessing on 



166' ESSAYS. 

their honest endeavours, doth not, in his wise prcvi- 
dence, otherwise determine. 

AN OLD TRADESMAN. 



NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE THAT WOULD 

BE RICH. 

WIUTTEN ANNO 1736. 

THE use of moiicy is all the advantage there is ill 
having money 

For six pounds a year you may have the use of one 
hundred pounds, provided you are a man of known 
prudence and honesty. 

He that spends a grot a day idly, spends idly above 
six pounds a year, which is the price for use of one 
hundred pounds. 

He that wastes idly a groat's worth of his time per 
day, one day with another, wastes the privilege of using 
one hundred pounds each day. 

He that idly loses five shiiiings worth of time, logics 
five shilihigs, ar»d might as prudently throw five shil- 
lings into the sea. 

He that loses five shillings, not only loses the sum, 
but all the advantage that might be made by turning it 
in dealing, which, by the time that a young man be- 
comes old, will amount to a considerable siim of muney. 

Again : he that sells upon credit, asks a price for 
what he sells equivalent to the principal and interest 
of his money for the time he is to be kept out of it ; 
therefore, he that buys upon credit, pays interest for 
what he buys; and he that pays ready money, might 
let that money out to use ; so that he that pof^sess any 
thing he has bought, pays interest for the use of it. 

Yet, in buying goods, u is best to piiy ready money, 
because, he that sells upon credit, expects to lose five 
per cent, by bad debts ; tlitrefore he charges, on all he 
sells upon credit, an advance that snail make up tliat 
deficiency. 



ESSAYS. 167 

Th^se who pay for what they buy upon credit, pay 
their share of this advance. 

He that pays ready money, escapes, or may escape, 
that charge. 

jl fienny sav^d is two-fience clear ^ 
A fiin a day^s a ^ot a year. 



THE WAY TO MAKE MONEY PLENTY IN EVEftY 

MAN'S POCKET. 

AT this time, when the general complaint is that— . 
^< money is scarce," it will be an act of kindness to in- 
form the moneyless how they may reinforce their pock- 
ets. I will acquaint them with the true secret of mo- 
ney-catching — the certain way to fill empty purses— 
and how to keep them always full. Two simple rules, 
well observed, will do the business. 

First, let honesty and industry be thy constant com- 
panions ; and. 

Secondly, spend one penny less than thy clear gains. 

Then shall thy hide-bound pocket soon begin to 
thrive, and will never again cry with the empty belly- 
ache : neither will creditors insult thee, nor want op- 
press, nor hunger bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. The 
whole hemisphere will shine brighter, and pleasure 
spring up in every corner of thy heart. Now, there^* 
fore, embrace these rules and be happy. Banish the 
bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, and live indepen- 
dent. Then shalt thou be a man, and not hide thy face 
at the approach of the rich, nor suffer the pain of feel- 
ing little when the sons of fortune walk at thy right 
hand : for independency, whether with little or much, is 
good fortune, and piaceth thee on even ground with the 
proudest of the golden fleece. Oh then, be wise, and 
let industry walk with thee in the morning, and attend 
thee until thou reachest the evening hour for rest — 
Let honesty be as the breath of thy soul, and never for- 
get to have a penny, when all thy ex peaces are enumef 



168 ESSAYS. 

rated and paid ; then sbalt thou reach the point of hap- 
piness, and independence shall be thy shield and buck- 
ler, thy helmet and crown ; then shall thy soul walk 
upright, nor stoop to the silken wretch because he hath 
riches, nor pocket an abuse because the hand which of- 
fers it wears a ring set with diamonds. 



AN ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 

£A Translation of this Letter appeared in one of the Daily 
Papers of Paris about the Year 1784. The following" is the 
Original Piece, with some Additions and Corrections made 
in it by the Author.] 

TO THE AUTHORS OF THE JOURNAL. 

jMessieurSi 

YOU often entertain us with accounts of new disco- 
veries. Permit me to communicate to the public, 
through your paper, one that has lately been made by 
myself, and which I conceive may be of great utility. 

I was the other evening in a grand company, where 
the new lamp of Messrs. Quinquet and Lange was in- 
troduced, and much admired for its splendor ; but a 
general enquiry was made, whether the oil it consum- 
ed, was not in proportion to the light it afforded, in 
which case there would be no saving in the use of it. 
No one present could satisfy us in that point, which all 
agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable 
thing to lessen, if possible, the expence of lighting our 
apartments, when every other article of family expence 
was so much augmented 

I was pleased to see this general concern for oecono- 
my ; for I love oeconomy exceedingly. 

I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after 
midnight, with my head full of the subject. An acci- 
dental sudden noise waked me about six in the morn- 
ing, when 1 was surprised to find my room filled with 
light ; and I imaci:ined at first that a number of those 
lamps had been brought into it : but rubbing my eyes, 



ESSAYS. 169 

I perceived the light eame in at the windows. I got 
up and looked out to see what might be the occasion of 
it, when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, 
from whence he poured his rays plentifully into my 
chamber, my domestic having negligently omitted the 
preceding evening to close the shutters. 

I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and 
found that it was but six o'clock ; apd still thinking it 
something extraordinary that the sun should rise so ear- 
ly, I looked into the almanack ; where I found it to be 
the hour given for his rising on that day. I looked for- 
w^ard too, and found he was to rise still earlier every 
day till towards the end of June ; and that at no time in 
the year he retarded his rising so long as till eight 
o'clock. Your readers, who with me have never seen 
any signs of sunshine before noon, and seldom regard 
the astronomical part of the almanack, will be as much 
astonished as I was, when they hear of his rising so ear- 
ly ; and especially when I assure them^ that he gives 
light as soon as he rises, I am conviaced of this. I 
am certain of the fact. One cannot be more certain of 
any fact. I saw it with my own eyes. And having re- 
peated this observation the three following mornings, 
I found always precisely the same result. 

Yet so it happens, that when I speak of this discove- 
ry to others, I can easily perceive by their countenan- 
ces, though they forbear expressing it in words, that 
they do not quite believe me. One indeed, who is a 
learned natural philosopher, has assured me that 1 must 
certainly be mistaken as to the circumstance of the 
light coming into my room : for it being well known, 
as he says, that there could be no light abroad at that 
hour, it follows that none coujd enter from without; and 
that of consequence, my windows being accidently left 
open, instead of letting in the light, had only served to 
let out the darkness : and he used many ingenious ar- 
guments to shew me how I might, by that Ineans, have 
been deceived. I own that he puzzled me a little, but 
h^ did not satisfy me ; and the subsequent observatioos 

P 



170 ESSAYS. 

1 made, as above mentioned, confirmed me in my first 
jDpinion. 

This event has given rise, in my mind, to several 
serious and important reflections. I considered that, 
if I had not been awakened so early in the morning, I 
should have slept six hours longer by the light of the 
sun, and in exchange have lived six hours the follow- 
ing night by candle light ; and the latter being a much 
more expensive light than the former, my love of oecon- 
omy induced me to muster up what little arithmetic I 
was master of, and to make some calculations, which I 
shall give you, after observing, that utility is, in my 
©pinion, the test of v^lue in matters of invention, and 
that a discovery which can be applied to no use, or is 
3lot good for something, is good for nothing. 

I took for the basis of my calculation the supposi- 
tion that there are 100,000 families in Paris> and that 
these families consume in the night half a pound of 
bougies, or candles, per hour. I think this is a mode- 
rate allowance, taking one family with another ; for 
ihough I believe some consume less, I know that ma- 
ny comsume a great deal more. Then estimating se- 
ven hours per day, as the medium quantity between the 
time of the sun*s rising and ours, he rising during the 
six followmg months from six to eight hours before 
noon, and there being seven hours of course per night 
in which we burn candles, the account will stand thuj 



In the six months between the twen- 
tieth of March and the twentieth of 
September, there are Nights 183 

Hours of each night in which we burn 

candles 7 

Multiplication gives for the total num- 
ber of hours ....... 1,281 

These 1,281 hours multiplied by 
100,000, the number of inhabitants, 
give 128,100,000 



-■A* 



ESS4YS. in 

One hundred twenty ei^ht millions, 
and one hundred thousand hours, 
spent at Paris by candle light, which, 
at half a pound of wax and tallow 
per hour, ^^ives the weight of 645O5O5OOO 

Sixty -four miliions and Sfty thousand 
of pounds, which estimating the 
wJiOie at the medium price of thir- 
ty sols the pound, make the sum of 
^ ninety-six millions and seventy-five 

thousand iivres tournois . . . 96,075,00 
An immense sum ! that the city of Paris might save 
every year, by the ceconomy of using sunshine instead 
of candles. 

If it should be said, that the people are apt to be ob» 
stinatcly attached to old customs, and that it will be dif- 
ficult to induce them to rise before noon, consequent* 
ly my discovery can be of little us« ; I answer, J^il dea-* 
perandum^ I believe all who have common sense, as 
soon as they have learnt from this paper that it is day- 
light when the sun rises, will contrive to rise with 
him ; and to compeh the rest, I would propose the fol- 
lowing regulations : 

First. Let a tax be laid of a louis, per window, on 
every window xliai is provided with abutters to keep 
out the light of the *sun. 

Second. Let the same salutary operation of police 
be made use of to prevent our burning candles, that in- 
clined us last winter to be more (economical in burn- 
ing wood ; that is, let guards be placed in the shops of 
Ihe wax and tallow chandlers, and no family be permit- 
ted to be supplied with more than one pound of can- 
dles per week. 

Third. Let guards be posted to stop all the coaches, 
&c. that would pass the streets after sun-set, except 
those of physicians, surgeons and midv/ives. 

. Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, let 
all the bells in every church be set ringing ; and if that 
is not suSicient; leteannon be fired in ev^ry street^ and 



172 E.^AYS-; 

wake the sluggards effectually, and make them open 
their eyes to see their true interest. 

All the difficulty will be in the first two or three 
days ; after which the reformation will be as natural 
and easy as the present irregularity : ce n'esc que le 
premier pas qui coute. Oblige a man to rise at four in 
the morning, and it is more than probable he shall go 
willingly to bed at eight in the evening ; and, having had 
eight hours sleep, he will rise more willingly at four 
the morning following. But this sum of ninety-six 
millions and seventy-five thousand livres is not the 
whole of what may be saved by my cecouomical pro- 
ject. You may observe, that I have calculated upon 
only one half of the year, and m.uch may be saved in the 
other, though the days are shorter. . Besides, the im- 
mense stock of wax and tallow left unconsumed during 
the summer will probably make candles, much cheaper 
for the en&uing winter, and continue cheaper as long as 
?he proposed reformation shall be supported. 

For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely 
communicated and bestowed by me on the public, I 
demand neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, 
i^or any other reward whatever. I expect only to have 
the honour of it. And yet I know, there are little en- 
vious minds who will, as usual, deny me this, and say 
4jiat my invention was known to the ancients, and per- 
hai>s they may bring passages out of the old books in 
proof of it. I will not dispute with these people that 
the ancients knew not the sun would rise at certain 
liours ; they possibly had, as we have, almanacs that 
predicted it : but it does not follow from thence that 
they knew he gave light as soon as he rose. This is 
what I claim as my discovery. If the ancients knew it, 
it must have long since been forgotten, for it certainly 
was unknown to the moderns, at least to the Parisians ; 
which to prove, I need use but one plain simple argu- 
ment. They are as well instructed, judicious, and pru- 
dent a people as exist any where in the world, ail pro- 
fessing, like myself, to be lovers ©f ceconomyj ^d, from 



the many heavy taxes required from them by the ne- 
cessities of the state, have surely reason to be oecono- 
mical. I say it is impossible tliat so sensible a peo- 
ple, under such circumstances, should have lived so 
long by the smoky unwholesome, and enormously ex*^ 
pensive light of candles, if they had really known that 
they might have had as much pure light of the sun for 
nothing. I am, &o. 

AN A BONNE r 



ON MODERN INNOVATIONS IN THE ENGLISH hXK- 

^ GUAGE, AND IN PRINTING. 

>■ 

TO ^OAH \VEBSTER JUN. ESQ.. AT HARTFORD, 

Philadelphia, Dec. 26, 1789. 
Dear Siry 

I RECEIVED, some time ^mce^yoMv Dissertations 
on the Ejiglish Language, It is an excellent work, and 
v/ill be greatly useful in turning the thoughts of our 
countrymen to correct writing. Please to accept my 
thanks for it, as well as for the great honour you have- 
done me in its dedication. I ought to have made thi 
acknowlegement sooner, but much indisposition pre- 
vented me^ 

I cannot but applaud your zeal for preserving the 
purity of our language both in its expression and pro^ 
nunciation, and in correcting the popular errors, sev- 
eral of our states are continually falling into with res- 
pect to both. Give me leave to mention some of them,, 
though possibly they may already have occured to yom 
I wish, however, that in some future publication of^ 
yours you would set a discountenancing mark upon 
them. The first I remember, is the word improved. 
When I left New-England in the year 1723ahis word- 
had never been used among us, as far as I know, but ini 
the sense oi ameliorated^ or made better^ except once in^ 
a very old book of Dr. Mather 's, entitled, Remarkable- 
Frovidenc€9. As that man wrote £i very obscure hand,, 

V 2. 



s* 



174 ESSAYS. 

I remember that when I read that word in his bookf 
used instead of the word emjiloyed^ I conjectured that 
it was an error of the printer, who had mistaken a short 
/ in the writing for an r^ and a y.with too short a tail for 
a x', whereby emfiloyed was converted into imfiroved s 
but when I returned to Boston in 1733, I found this 
change had obtained favour, and was then become com* 
mon ; for I met with it often in perusing the newspa- 
pers, where it frequently made an appearance rather 
ridiculous. Such, for instance, as the advertisement 
of a country house to be sold, which had been many- 
years imfiroved as a tavern ; and in the character of a 
deceased country gentleman, that he had been, for more 
than thirty years, imfiroved as a justice of the peace. 
This use of the word imfirove is peculiar to New-En- 
gland, and not to be met with among any other speak- 
ers of English, either on this or the other side of the 
water. 

^During my late absence in France, I find that sev- 
eral other new words have been introduced into our 
parliamentary language. For example, I find a verb 
formed from the substantive notice, I should not have 
noticed this were it not that the g-entleman, life* Also 
another verb, from the substantive acfvocare; The gentle^ 
man nvho advocates, or who has advocated that motion^ 
Isfc. Another from the substantive /^ro^rcss, the most 
awkward and abominable of the three : The committee 
Aax^iTz^ progressed, resolved to adjourn. The word ofi' 
fiosedy though not a new word, I find used in a new 
manner, as, The gentlemen who are opposed to this 
measure J to which I have also myself always been op- 
posed. If you should happen to be of my opinion with 
respect to these innovations, you will use your authority 
in reprobating them. 

The Latin language, long the vehicle used in distri- 
buting knowledge among the different nations of Eu- 
rope, is daily more and mot*e neglected ; and one of the 
modern tongues, viz. French, seem in point of univer- 
sality^ to have supplied its place. It is spoken in alJ 



ESSAYS. 17$ 

the courts of Europe ; and most of the literati, those 
even who do not speak it, have acquired knowledge of 
it, to enable them easily to read the books that are writ- 
ten in it. This gives a considerable advantage to that 
nation. It enables its authors to inculcate and spread 
through other nations, such sentiments and opinions, 
on important points, as are most conducive to its inter- 
ests, or which may contribute to its reputation, by pro- 
moting the common interests of mankind. It is, per- 
haps, owing to its being written in French, that Vol- 
taire's Treatise on Toleration has had so sudden and 
so great an effect on the bigotry of Europe, as almost 
entirely to disarm it. The general use of the French 
language has likewise a very advantageous effect on the 
profits of the bookselling branch of commerce, it being 
well known, that the more copies can be sold that are 
struck oflf from one composition of types, the profits 
increase in a much greater proportion than they do in 
making a greater number of pieces in any other kind 
of manufacture. And at present there is no capital 
town in Europe without a French bookseller's shop 
corresponding with Paris. Our English bids fair to 
obtain the second place. The great body of excellent 
printed sermons in our language, and the freedom of 
our writings on political subjects, have induced a great 
number of divines of different sects and nations, as well 
as gentlemen concerned in public affairs to study it, 
so far at least as to read it. And if we were to endea- 
vour the facilitating its progress, the study of our 
tongue might become much more general. Those 
who have employed some part of their time in learning 
a new language, must have frequently observed, that 
■while their acquaintance with it was imperfect, difficul- 
ties, small in themselves, operated as great ones in ob- 
structing their progress. A book, for example, ill 
printed, or a pronunciation in speaking not well articu- 
lated, would render a sentence unintelligible, which 
from a clear print, or a distinct speaker, would have 
bjeen immediately comprehended. If therefore^ w^ 



Xr6 ESSAYS. 

would have the benefit of seeing our language more 
generally known among mankind, we should endeavour 
to remove all the difficulties, however small, that ciis-* 
courage the learning of it. But I am sorry to observe, 
that of late years, those difficulties, instead of being 
diminished, have been augmented. 

In examining the English books that were printed 
between the restoration and the accession of George 
the Second, we may observe, that all subsiantives were 
begun with a capital, in which we imitated our mother 
tongue, the German. This was more particularly use- 
ful to those who were not Vfell acquainted with the Eng- 
lish, there being such a prodigious number of our 
words that are both verbs and substantives, and spelt 
in the same manner, tiiough often accented differently 
in pronunciation. This method has, by the fancy of 
printers, of late years, been entirely laid aside ; from 
an idea, that suppressing the capitals shew^s the eharac-- 
ter to greater advantage ; those letters, prominent above 
the line, disturbing it seven, regular appearance. The 
effiict of this chanee is so considerable, that a learned 
man in France, wlio used to read our books, though not 
perfectly acquainted with our language, in conversation 
with me on the subject of our authors, attributed the 
greater obscurity he found in our modern books, com- 
pared with those written in the period above mention- 
ed, to change of style for the worse in our writers ; of 
which mistake I convinced him, by marking for him 
each substantive wnth a capital, in a paragraph, which 
he then easily understood, though before he could not 
comprehend it. This shew*^ the inconvenience of that 
pretended improvement. 

From the same fondness for an uniibrm and even ap- 
pearance of characters in the line, the printers have of 
late banished also the Italic types, in which words of 
importance to be attended to in the sense of t^e sen- 
tence, and words on which an emphasis should be put 
in reading, used to be printed. And lately another fan- 
cy has induced other printers to use the rounds instead 



ESSAYS? vtr 

oT the long one, which formerly served well to distin- 
guish a word readily by its varied appearance. Cer- 
tainly the omitting this prominent letter makes a line 
appear more even, but renders it less immediately le- 
gible ; as the paring of all men's noses might smooth 
and level their faces, but would render their physiogno- 
mies less distinguishable. Add to all these improve- 
ments backwards, another modern fancy, that grey 
printing is more beautiful than black. Hence the Eng- 
lish new books are printed in so dim a character, as to 
be read with difficulty by old eyes, unless in a very 
strong light and with good glasses. Whoever com- 
pares a volume of the Gentleman's Magazine, printed 
between the years 1731 and 1740, with one of those 
printed in the last ten years, will be convinced of the 
much greater degree of perspicuity given by black than 
by the grey. Lord Chesterfield pleasantly remarked 
this difference to Faulkener, the printer of the Dublin 
Journal, who was vainly making encomiums on his ovm 
paper, as tr.e most complete of any in the world.-— 
'^ But Mr= Faulkener/* says my lord, " don't you think 
" it might be stili farther improved, by using paper and 
<' ink not quhe so near of a colour." — For all these rea- 
sons I cannot but wish that our American printers would, 
in their editions, avoid these fancied improvements, and 
thereby render their works more agreeable to foreign- 
ers in Europe, to the great advantage of our bookseil- 
ino: comnierce. 

Favther to be more sensible of the advantage of clear 
and distinct printing, let us consider the assistance it 
affords in reading well aloud to an auditory. In so do- 
inj^ the eye generally slides forward three or four words 
before the voice. If the sight clearly distinguishes 
wJiat the coming words are, it gives time to order the 
modulution of the voice, to express them properly.— 
But if th^^y are obscurely printed, or disguised by omit- 
ting the ci^pitals and long/'s, or otherwise, the reader 
is apt to motluiate wrong, and finding he has done so, 
he is obliged to go back and begin the sentepge ^gairi; 



17B ESSAYS. 

which lessens the pleasure of the hearers. This leads 
me to mention an old error in our mode of printing. 
We are sensible that when a question is met with in the 
reading, there is a proper variation to be used in the 
manai^ement of the voice. We have, therefore, a points 
called an interrogation, affixed to the question, in order 
to distinguish it. But this is absurdly placed at its end, 
so that the reader does not disco v^er it ^ill he finds that 
he has wrongly modulated his voice, and is therefore 
obliged to begin again the sentence. To prevent this, 
the Spanish printers, more sensibly, place an interroga- 
tion at the; beginning as well as at the end of the ques- 
tion. We ha:ve another error of the same kind in print- 
ing plays, where something often occurs that is mark- 
ed as spoken aside. But the word aside is placed at 
the end of the speech, when it ought to precede it, as 
a direction to the reader, that he may govern his voice 
accordingly. The practice of our ladies in meeting five 
or six together, to form little busy parties, where each 
is employed in some useful work, while one reads to 
them, is so commendable in itself, that it deserves the 
attention of authors and printers to make it as pleasing 
as possible, both to the reader and hearers. 

My best wishes attend you, being, with sincere es- 
teem. Sir, 

Your most obedient and 
very humble servant- 

B. FRANKLIN. 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE HIGHEST COURT OF JUDICA- 
TURE IN PENNSYLVANIA, 
—viz — 

THE COURT OF THE PRESS. 

Power of this Court. 

IT may receive and promulgate accusations of all 
kinds, against all persons and ctiitrdCttrs among the ci- 
tizens of the state, aud even against uU inferior courts 5 



ESSAYS. 1?9 

and may judge, sentence, and condemn to inilamy, not 
only private individuals, but public bodies, &c. with or 
without enquiry or hearing, at the court's discretion. 

Whose favour^ or for ivhose emolumenta this Court 

is established^ 

In favour of about one citizen in five hundred, who, 
by education, or practice in scribbling, has acquired a 
tolerable style as to gn;mmar and construction, so as 
to bear printing ; or who is possessed of a press and u 
few types. This five hundredth part of the citizens 
have the privilege of accusing and abusing the other 
four hundred and ninety-nine parts at their pleasure ; 
or they may hire out their pens and press to others ; 
for that purpose. 

Practice of this Court, 

It is not governed by any of the rules of the common 
corns cf 'avr. The accused is allov/ed no grand jury 
to ; of the truth of the accusation before it is pub- 

li' ) lie ; nor is the name of the accuser made known 

tc or has he ^n opportunity of confronting the 

T a^airst him, for they are kept in the dark, 

as in c^nisii court of inquisition. Nor is there 

a:-. , j> Y ^f ^^^s peers sworn to try the truth 

of ttie .^^es. The proceedings are also sometimes 
sc - . nat an honest good citizen may find himself 
suv. y aiKl unexpectedly accused, and in the same 
morr,n.g judged and condemned, and sentence pro- 
nounced af:::Jnst him that he is a rogue and a villain. 
Yet if an officer of this court receives the slightest 
check for misconduct in this his office, he claims im- 
mediately the rights of a free citizen by the constitu^ 
tion, and demands to Know his accuser, to confront the 
witnesses, and to have a fair trial by a jury of his peers, 

The foundation of its authority. 

It is said to be founded on an article in the state con- 
stitution, which establishes the liberty of the press — a 
liberty which every Pennsylvanian would fight and die 



180 ESSAYS. 

for, though few of us, 1 believe, have distinct ideas of 
its nature and extent. It seems, indeed, somewhat 
like the liberty of the press that felons have ; by the 
common law of England before conviction ; that is, to 
be either pressed to death or hanged. If by the liberty 
of the press, were understood merely the liberty of dis- 
cussing the propriety of public measures and political 
opinions, let us have as much of it as you please ; but 
if it means the liberty of affronting, calumniating, and 
defaming one another, I, for my part, own myself will- 
ing to part with my share of it, whenever our legisla- 
tors shall please so to alter the law 5 and shall cheerfully 
consent to exchange my liberty of abusing others, for 
the privilege of not being abused myself. 

Bt/ whom this court is commissioned or constituted. 

It is not any commission from the supreme execu- 
tive council, who might previously judge of the abili- 
ties, integrity, knowledge, 8cc. of the persons to be ap- 
pointed to this great trust of deciding upon the charac- 
ters and good fame of the citizens : for this court is 
above that council, and may accuse, judge and condemn 
it at pleasure. Nor is it hereditary, as is the court of 
dernier resort in the peerage of England. But any 
man who can procure pen, ink, and paper, with a press, 
SI few types, and a huge pair of blacking balls, may com- 
missionate himself, and his court is immediately esta- 
blished in the plenary possession and exercise of its 
rights. For if you make the least complaint of the 
judge's conduct, he daubs his blacking balls in your 
face wherever he meets you, and besides tearing your 
private character in splinters, marks you out for the 
odium of the public, as an enemy to the liberty of the 
press. 

Of the natural sufifiort of this Court. 

Its support is founded in the depravity of such minds 
as have not been mended by religion, nor improved by 
good education. 



ESSAYS. 181 

There is a lust In man no charm can tame. 
Of loudly publishing his neighbour's shame* 

Hence, 

On eagles' wings, immortal, scandals fly. 
While virtuous actions are but born and die. 

Dryden. 

Whoever feels pain in hearing a good character of 
his neighbour, will feel a pleasure in the reverse. And 
of those who, despairing to rise to distinction by their 
virtues, are happy if others can be depressed to a level 
with themselves, there are a number sufficient in every 
great town to maintain one of those courts by their sub- 
scription. A shrewd observer once said, that in walk- 
ing in the streets of a slippery morning, one might see 
where the good natured people lived, by the ashes 
thrown on the ice before the doors ; probably he would 
have formed a different conjecture of the temper of 
those whom he might find engaged in such subscrip- 
tions. 

Of the checks fir o/ier to be established against the abuses 

offiov)er in those courts. 

Hitherto there are none. But since so much has 
been written and published on the federal constitution ; 
and the necessity of checks, in all other parts of good 
government, has been so clearly and learnedly explain- 
ed, I find myself so far enlightxined as to suspect some 
check may be proper in this part also; but I have been 
at a loss to imagine any that may not be construed an in- 
frigement of the sacred libeny of the press. At length, 
however, I think I have found one, that instead of di- 
minishing general liberty, shall augment it ; v»^hich is, 
by restoring to the people a species of liberty of which 
they have been deprived by our laws, I mean the liberty 
of the cudgel ! In the rude state of society prior to tha 
existence of laws, if one man gave another ill language, 
the affronted person might return it by a box on the 

Q 



1i82 ESSAYS. 

ear ; and If repeated, by a good drubbing : and tliis 
ivithout offending against any law ; but now the right 
of making such returns is denied, and they are punish- 
ed as breaches of the peace, while the right of abusing 
seems to remain in full force ; the laws made against 
it being rendered ineffectual by the liberty of the press. 
My proposal then is, to leave the liberty of the press 
untouched, to be exercised in its full extent, force, and 
vigour, but to permit the liberty of the cudgel to go 
ivith it, fiari passu. Thus, my fellow-citizens, if an im- 
pudent writer attacks your reputation — dearer, perhaps 
to you than your life, and puts his name to the charge, 
you may go to him as openly and break his head. If he 
conceals himself behind the printer, and you can ne- 
vertheless discover who he is, you may in like manner, 
^vaylay him in the night, attack him behind, and give 
him a good drubbing. If your adversary hires better 
writers than himself, to abuse you more effectually, you 
may hire brawny porters, stronger than yourself, to as- 
sist you in giving him a more effectual drubbing. Thus 
far goes my project, as to/zniya^e resentment and retri- 
bution. But if the public should ever happen to be af- 
fronted, as it ought to be with the conduct of such 
writers, I would not advise proceeding immediately to 
these extremities, but that we should in moderation con- 
tent ourselves "svith tarring and feathering, and tossing 
them in a blanket. 

If, hov/ever, it should be thought that this proposal 
of mine may disturb the public peace, I would then 
humbly recommend to our legislators, to take up the 
ronsideration of both liberties, that of the press, and 
that of the cudgel ; and by an explicit law, mark their 
extent and limits : and at the same time that they se- 
cure the person of a citizen from assaults, they would 
likewise provide for the security of his reputation. 



ESSA.YS. 181 

PAPER :~K POEM. 

SOME wit of old — such wits of old there were— • 
Whose hints show'd meaning, whose illusions care. 
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, 
CallM clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind 
When still, as op'ning sense her dictates wTotCj 
Fair virtue put a seal, or Vice a bolt. 

The thought was happy, pertinent, and true j 
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. 
1, (can you pardon my presumption ? I) 
No wit, no genius, yet for once will try. 

Various the papers various wants produce,; 
The wants of fashion, elegance, and use. 
Men are as various : and, if right I scan^ 
Each sort of /za/ier represents some man. 

Pray note the fop- — half powder and half lace-*= 
Nice as a band-tfcx "were his dwelling-place ; 
He's the ^ilt paper ^ which apart you stor^. 
And lock from vulgar hands in the 'scrutoire. 

Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, 
Are copy pafier^ of inferior worth ; 
Less priz'd, more useful, for your desk decreed, 
Free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need. 

The wretch whom av'rice bids to pinch and spare;. 
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir. 
Is coarse broivn paper ; such as pedlars choose 
To wrap up wares, which better men will use. 

Take next the Miser's contrast, who destroys 
Hjeaith, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. 
Will any paper mutch him ! Yes, thro'out, 
lie's a true sinking paper^ past all doubt. 

The retail politician's anxious thought 
Deems this side always right, and that stark nought ; 
He foams with censure ; with applause he raves— 
A dupe to rumoursj and a tool of knaves ; 



184 ESSAYS. 

He'li want no type his weakness to proclaim, 
While such a thing dis/ools-caji has a name. 

The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high> 
Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry, 
Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure : 
AVhat's he 1 What ? Touch-fia/ier to be sure. 

What are our poets, take them as they fall, 
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all ? 
Them and their works in the same class you'll find ; 
They are the mere nvaste-pajier of mankind. 

Observe the maiden, innocently sweet, 
She's fair lukite fiafier^ an unsullied sheet ; 
On which the happy man whom fate ordains, 
May write his name^ and take her for his pains. 

One instance more, and only one I'll bring ; 
Tis the Great-Man who scorns a little thing, 
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are ]^s 

own, 
Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone x 
True genuine royal-pafier is his breast ; 
Of ail the kinds most precious, purest, best 



ON THE ART OF SWIMMING. 

In answer to some e?iguiries of M, Dubourg* en the 

subject, 

I AM apprehensive that I shall not be able to find 
kisure for making all the disquisitions and experi- 
ments which would be desirable on this subject. I 
must, therefore, content myself with a few remarks. 

The specific gravity of some human bodies, in com- 
parison to that of water, has been examined by M. Ro- 
binson, in our Philosophical Transactions, volume 50 
page 30, for the year 1757. He asserts, that fat per- 
sons with small bones float most easily upon water. 

* Translator of l>r. Franklin's Works ioto French. 



ESSAYS', 185r- 

The diving bell is accurately described'in our trans- 
actions. 

When I was a boy, I made two oval pallets, each 
about ten inches long, and six broad, with a hole for the 
thumb, in order to retain it fast in the palm of my hand. 
They much resemble a painter's pallets. In swim- 
ming I pushed the edges of these forward, and I struck 
the water with their flat surfaces as I drew them back. 
I remember I swam faster by means of these pallets, 
but they fatigued my wrists. — I also fitted to the soles 
of my feet a kind of sandals ; but I was not satisfied 
with them, because I observed that the stroke is partly 
given with the inside of the feet and the ancles, and not 
entirely with the soles of the feet. 

We have here waistcoats for swimming, which are 
made of double sail-cloth, with small pieces of cork 
quiltedin between them. 
I know nothing of the scafihandre oJlM. dela Chapelle. 

I know by experience that it is a great comfort to a 
swimmer, who has a considerable distance to i^o, to 
turn himself sometimes on his back, and to vary in other 
respects the means of procuring a progressive motion. 

When he is seized with the cramp in the leg, the 
method or driving it away is to give to the parts effect- 
ed a sudden, vigorous, and violent shock ; which he may 
do in the air as he swims on his back. 

During the great heats of summer their is no dan- 
ger in bathing, however warm we may be, in rivers 
which have been thoroughly warmed by the sun. But 
to throw oneself into coid spring water, when the bo- 
dy has been heated by exercise in the sun, is an impru« 
dence which may prove fatal. I once knev/ an instance 
of four young men, who having worked at harvest in 
the heat of the day, with a view of refreshing them- 
selves plunged hito a spring of cold water ; tv/o died 
upon the spot, a third the next morning, and the fourth 
recovered with great difficulty. A copious draught 
of cold water, in similar circumstances, is frequently-; 
attended with the game effect in ^jorth America, 

q.2 



186 ESSAYS. 

The exercise of swimming is one of the most healthy 
and agreeable in the world. After having swam for an 
hour or two in the evening, one sleeps coolly the whole 
night, even during the most ardent heat of summer —-» 
Perhaps the pores being cleansed, the insensible per- 
spiration increases and occasions this coolness. — It is 
certain that much swimming is the means of stopping 
a diarrhoea, and even of producing a constipation.-— 
With respect to those who do not know how to swim> 
or who are effected with a diarrhoea at a season which 
does not permit them to use that exercise, a warm 
bath, by cleansing and purifying the skin, is found very 
salutary, and often effects a radical cure. I speak from 
my own experience, frequently repeated, and that of 
others to whom I have recommended this. 

You will not be displeased if I conclude these hasty 
remarks by informing you, that as the ordinary method 
of swimming is reduced to the pxt of rowing with the 
arms and legs, and is consequently a laborious and fa- 
tiguing operation when the space of water to be cross- 
ed is considerable ; there is a method in wiiich a swim- 
mer may pass with facility, to great distances by means 
of a sail. This discovery I fortunately made by acci- 
dent, and in the following manner. 

When J was a boy, I amused myself one day with 

flying a paper kite ; and approaching the bank of a 

pond which was near a mile broad, I tied the string 

to a stake, and the kite ascended to a very considerable 

"leight above the pond, while I was swimming. In a 

ilule time, being desirous of amusing myself with my 

kite, and enjoying at the same time the pleasure of 

-wimmlng, I returned ; and loosing from the stake the 

>tring with the little stick which was fastened to it, 

■yent v.i^?dn into the water, where I found, that, lying on 

■^ly back and holding the stick in my hands, I was drawn 

ilonp- tlie surface of the w^ater in a very agreeable man- 

liCr. Having then engaged another boy to carry my 

!<)thes rooud the pond, to a place which I pointed out 

\hf> o ■ her side- 1 beean to cross the pond with 



ESSAYS, IQT 

my kite, which carried me quite over without the least 
fatigue, and with the greatest pleasure imaginable. I 
was only obliged occasionally to halt a little in my course, 
and resist its progress, when it appeared that, by fol- 
lowing too quick, I lowered the kite too much ; by do- 
ing which, occasionally, I made it rise again — 1 have 
never since that time practised this singular mode of 
swimming, though I think it not impossible to cross in 
this manner from Dover to Caliiisa The packet-boatj 
however, is still preferable. 



NEW MODE OF BATHING: 

£XTXIAGT6 OF LETTERS TO M. DUBOURG. 

London^ July 28, 1768. 

I GREATLY approve the epithet you give, in your 
letter of the 8th of June, to the new method of treating 
the small-pox, which you call the tonic or bracing me- 
thod : I will take occasions from it, to mention a prac- 
tice to which I have accustomed myself. You know 
the cold bath has long been in vogue here as a tonic ; 
but the shock of the cold water has always appeared to 
me generally speaking, as too violent, and I have found 
it much more agreeable to my constitution to bathe in 
another element, I mean in cold air. With this view I 
rise early almost every morning, and sit in my cham- 
ber, without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an 
hour, according to the season, either reading or wri- 
ting. This practice is not in the least painful, but on 
the contrary, agreeable ; and if I return to bed after- 
wards, before I dress myself, as sometimes happen, I 
make a supplement to my night's rest of one or two 
hours of the most pleasing sleep that can be imagined. 
I find no ill consequences whatever resulting from it, 
and that at least it does not injure my health, if it does 
not in fact contribute much to its preservation — I shall 
therefore call it for the future a bracing or conic bath. 



183 • ESSAYS. 

March 10, 1773, 

I shall not sittempt to explain why damp clothes oc- 
casion colds, rather than wet ones, because I doubt the 
fact : I imagine that neither the oiie nor the other con- 
tribute to this effect ; and that the causes of colds are 
totally independent of wet and even of cold. I propose 
writing a short paper on this subject, the first leisure 
moment I have at my disposal. In the mean time I 
can only say, that having some suspicions that the com- 
mon notion, which attributes to cold the property of 
stopping the pores and obstructing perspiration, was 
ill-founded, I engaged a young physician, who is mak- 
ing some experiments with Sanctorious's balance, to 
estimate the different proportions of his perspiration 
when remaining one hour quite naked, and another 
warmly clothed. He pursued the experiment in this 
alternate manner for eight hours successively, and found 
his perspiration almost double during those hours in 
which he was naked. 



OBSERVATIONS ON THE GENERALLY PREVAILING 
DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH. 

TO THE SAME. 

YOUR observations on the causes of death, and the 
experiments which you propose for recalling to life 
those who appear to be killed by ligiitning, demonstrate 
equally your sagacity and humanity. It appears that 
the doctrines of life an death, in general, are yet but lit- 
tle understood. 

A toad, buried in sand, will live, it is said, until the 
sand becomes petrified ; and then, being inclosed in the 
stone, it may still live for we know not how many ages. 
The facts which are cited in support of this opinion, 
are too numerous and too circumstantial not to deserve 
a certain degree of credit. As we are accustomed to 
see all the -animals with which we are acquainted eai 



ESSAYS. 189 

and drink, it appears to us difficult to conceive how a 
toad can be supported in such a dungeon. But if we 
reflect, that the necessity of nourishment, which animals 
experience in their ordinary state, proceeds from the 
continual waste of their substance by perspiration ; it 
will appear less incredible that some animals in a torpid 
state, perspiring less because they use no exercise, 
should have less need of ailment; and that others, which 
are covered with' scales or shells, vfhich stop perspira- 
tion, such as land and sea turtles, serpents, and some 
species of fish, should be able to subsist a considerable 
time without any nourishment whatever. A plant, with 
its flowers, fades and dies immediately, if exposed to 
the air without having its roots immersed In a humid 
soil, from which it may draw a suflicient quantity of 
moisture, to supply that which exhales from its sub- 
stance, and is carried ofl" continually by the air. Per- 
haps, however, if it were buried in quicksilver, it might 
preserve, for a considerable space of time, its vegeta- 
ble life, its smell and colour. If this be the case, it 
might prove a commodious method of transporting 
from distant countries those delicate plants which are 
unable to sustain the inclemency of the v/eather at seaj 
•and which require particular care and attention. 

I have seen an instance of common flies preserved 
in a manner somewhat similar. They had been drown- 
ed in Madeira wine, apparently about the time when it 
was bottled in Virginia, to be sent to London. At the 
opening of one of the bottles at the house of a friend 
where I was, three drowned flies fell into the first glass 
which was filled. Having heard it remarked that 
drowned flies were capable of being revived by the rays 
of the sun, I proposed making the experiment upon 
these. They were therefore exposed to the sun, upon 
a sieve which had been employed to strain them out of 
the wine. In less than three hours two of them began 
by degrees to recover life. They commenced by some 
convulsive motions in the thighs, and at length they 
raised themselves upon their legs, wiped their eyes 



190 ESSAYS. 

with their forefeet, beat and brushed their wings with 
their hind feet, and soon after began to fly, finding them- 
selves in Old England, without knowing how they came 
thither. The third continued lifeless until sun-set, 
when, losing all hopes of him, he was thrown away. 

I wish it were possible, from this instance, to invent 
a method of embalming drowned persons, in such a 
manner that they might be recalled to life at any peri- 
od, however distant ; for having a very ardent desire 
to see and observe the state of America an hundred 
years hence, I should prefer to an ordinary death, the 
being immersed in a cask of Madeira wine, with a few 
friends, until that time, then to be recalled to life by 
the solar warmth of my dear country ! But, since, in 
all probability, we live in an age too early, and too near 
the infancy of science, to see such an art brought in 
our time to its perfection, I must, for the present, con- 
tent myself with the treat, which you are so kind as to 
promise me, of the resurrection of a fowl or a turkey- 
cock. 



PRECAUTIONS TO BE USED BY THOSE AVHO ARB 
ABOUT TO UNDERTAKE A SEA VOYAGE. 

WHEN you intend to, take a long voyage, nothing 
is better than to keep it a secret till tlie moment of your 
departure. Without this you will be continually inter- 
rupted and tormented by visits from friends and ac- 
quaintances, who not only make you lose your valuable 
time, but make you foi*get a thousand things which 
you wish to remember ; so that when you are embark- 
ed, and fairly at sea, you recollect, with much uneasi- 
ness, affairs which you have not terminated, accounts 
that you have not settled, and a number of things which 
you proposed to carry with you, and w^hich you find the 
want of every moment. Would it not be attended with 
the best consequences to reibrm such a custom, and to 
suffer ^ traveller, without deranging him, to make his 



ESSAYS. 191 

preparations in quietness, to set apart a few days, wheii^ 
these are finished, to take leave of his friends, and to 
receive their good wishes for his happy return ? 

It is not always in one's power to choose a' captain ; 
though great part of the pleasure and happiness of the 
passage depends upon this choice, and though one must 
for a time be confined to his company, and be in some 
measure under his command. If he is a social sensi- 
ble man, obliging, and of a good disposition, you will 
be so much the happier. One sometimes meets with 
people of this description, but they are not common ; 
however, if yours be not of this number, if he be a good 
seaman, attentive, careful, and active in the manage- 
ment of his vessel, you may dispense with the rest, for 
these are the most essential qualities. 

Whatever right you may have by your agreement 
with him, to the provisions he has taken on board for 
the use of the passengers, it is always proper to have 
some private store, which you may make use of occa- 
sionally. You ought, therefore, to provide good water, 
that of the ship being often bad : but you must put it 
into bottles, without which you cannot expect to pre- 
serve it sweet. You ought also to carry with you 
good tea, ground coffee, chocolate, wine of the sort you 
like best, cyder, dried raisins, almonds, sugar, capil- 
laire, citrons, rum, eggs dipped in oil, portable soup, 
bread twice baked. With regard to poultry, it is al- 
most useless to carry any with you, unless you resolve 
to undertake the office of feeding and fattening them 
yourself. With the little care which is taken of them 
on board ship, they are almost all sickly, ancj their flesh 
is as tough as leather. 

All sailors entertain an opinion, which has undoubt- 
edly originated forrnerly from a want of water, and when 
it has been found necessary to be sparing of itj that 
poultry never know when they have drank enough ; 
and that when water is given them at discretion, they 
generally kill themselves by drinking beyond measure. 
In consequence of this opinioni Uiey gave thera water 



f92 feSSAYS. 

only once in two days, and even then in small quanti- 
ties ; but as they pour this water into troughs inclining 
on one side, which occasions it to run to the lower 
part, it thence happens that they are obliged to mount 
one upon the back of another in order to reach it; and 
there are some which cannot even dip their beaks in it. 
Thus continually tantalized and tormented by thirst, 
they are unable to digest their food, which is very dry, 
and they soon fall sick and die. Some of them are 
found thus every morning, and are thrown into the sea; 
whilst those which are killed for the table are scarcely 
fit to be eaten. To remedy this inconvenience, it will 
be necessary to divide their troughs into small com- 
partments, in such a manner that each of them may be 
capable of containing water ; but this is seldom or ne- 
ver done. On this account, sheep and hogs are to be 
considered as the best fresh provision that one can have 
at sea ; mutton there being in general very good, and 
pork excellent. 

It may happen that some of the provisions and stores 
which I have recommended may become almost use- 
less, by the care which the captain has taken to lay in 
a proper stock ; but in such a case you may dispose of 
it to relieve the poor passengers, who, paying less for 
their passage, are stowed among the common sailors, 
and have no right to the captain's provisions, except 
such part of them as is used for feeding the crew.-— — 
These passengers are sometimes sick, melancholy, and 
dejected; and there are often women and children 
among them neither of whom have any opportunity of 
procuring those things which I have mentioned, and of 
which, perhaps, they have the greatest need. By dis- 
tributing among them a part of your superfluity, you 
may be of the greatest assistance to them. You may 
restore their health, save their lives, and in short ren- 
der them happy ; which always affords the liveliest 
sensation to a feeling mind. 

The most disagreeable thing at sea is the cookery ; 
for there is not, properly speaking, any professed cook 



ESSAYS. 19o 

©n board. The worst sailor is generallyxhosen for that 
purpose, who for the most part is equally dirty. Hence 
comes the proverb used among the English sailors, 
that God sends meat, and the Devil sends cooks. Those 
however, ^yho have a better opinion of providence, will 
think otherwise. Knowing that sea air, and the exer- 
cise or motion which they receive from the rolling of 
the ship, have a wonderful effect in whetting the appe- 
tite, they will say that Provideiicc has given sailors bad 
cooks to prevent them from eating too much ; or that 
knowing they would have bad cooks, he has given them 
a good appetite to prevent them from dying with hun- 
ger. However, if you have no confidence in these suc- 
cours of Providence, you may yourself, with a lamp and 
a boiler, by the help of a little spirits of wine, prepare 
some food, such as soup, hash, Sec. A small oven made 
of tinplate is not a bad piece of furniture ; your servant 
may roast in it a piece of mutton or pork. If you are 
ever tempted to eat salt beef, which is often very good, 
you will find that cider is the best liquor to quench the 
thirst generally caused by salt meat or salt fish. Sea- 
biscuit which is too hard for the teeth of some people, 
may be softened by steeping it ; but bread double -ba- 
ked is the best, for being made of good loaf-bread cut 
into slices, and baked a second time, it readily imbibes 
v/ater, becomes soft, and is easily digested ; it conse- 
quently forms excellent nourishment, much superior 
to that of biscuit, which has not been fermented. 

I must here observe, that this double-baked bread 
was originally the real biscuit prepared to keep at sea; 
for the word biscuit , in French, signifies tv/ice baked.* 
Pease often boil badly, and do not become soft; in such 
ia case, by putting a two-pound shot into the kettle, the 
rolling of the vessel, by means of this bullet will con- 
vert the pease into a kind of porridge, like mustard. 

Having often seen soup, when put upon the table at 
sea in broad flat dishes, thrown out on every side by the 

* It is derived from bis again, an^ cuit bakedr 

R 



194 . 'ESS.\YS. 

rolling of the vessel, I have wished that our tinmeti 
Aveuld make our soup-basons with divisions or com- 
partments forming small plates, proper for containing 
jsoup for one person only. By this disposition, the 
soup, in an extraordinary roll, would not be thrown out 
^of the plate, and would not fall into the breasts of those 
who are at table, and scald them. Having entertained 
you with these things of little importance, permit me 
now to conclude with some general reflections upon 
navigation. 

When navigation is employed only for transporting 
necessary provisions from one country, where they 
uhound, to another where they are wanting; when by 
ibis it prevents famines, which were so frequent and 
so fatal before it was invented and became so common ; 
we cannot help considering it as one of those arts 
which contribute most to the happiness of mankind.— 
•But when it is employed to transport things of no utili- 
ty, or articles merely of luxury, it is then uncertain 
whether the advantages resulting from it are sufficient 
to counterbalence the misfortunes it occasions, by ex- 
posing the lives of so many individuals upon the vast 
ocean. And when it is used to plunder vessels and 
transport slaves, it is evidently only the dreadful means 
of increasing those calamities which afflict human 
nature. 

One is astonished to think on the number of vessels 
and men who are daily exposed in going to bring tea 
from China, coifee from Arabia, and sugar and tobacco 
from Am.erica; all which commodities our ancestors 
lived very well without. The sugar trade employs 
nearly a thousand vessels ; and that of tobacco almost 
the same number. With regard to the utility of tobac- 
co, little can be said ; and with regard to sugar, how 
much more meritorious would it be to sacrifice the 
momentary pleasure which we receive from drinking 
it once or twice a day in our tea, than to encourage the 
numberless cruelties that are continually exercised in 
torder to procure it us ? 



ESSAYS. 195 

A celebrated French moralist said, -that when ho 
consideFcd the wars which we foment in Africa lo get 
tje^^roes, the great number who of course perish in 
these wars ; the multitude of those wretches who die 
on their passage, by disease, bad air, and bad provi- 
sions; and lastly, how many perish by the cruel treal- 
rnent they meet with in a state of slavery ; w-hen he saw* 
a bit of sugar, he could not help imagining it to be co- 
vered with spots of human blood. But, had he added 
to these considerations the wars which we carrf on a- 
gainst one another, to take and retake the islands that 
produce this commodity, he would not have seen the 
sugar simply spotted with blood, he would have be- 
held it entirely tinged with it. 

These wars make the maritime powers of Europe, 
and the inhabitants of Paris and London, pay much 
dearer for their sugar than those of Vienna, though they 
are almost ihree hundred leagues distant from the sea. 
A pound of sugar, indeed, costs the former not only 
the price v/hich they give for it, but also what they pay 
in taxes, necessary to support those fleets and armies 
wdiich serve to defend and protect the countvics that 
produce it. 



ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, AND INDUSTRY. 

From a Letter to Benjamin Vaujhan, Esq* -written in 1784. 

IT is wonderful how preposterously the affairs of 
this world are managed. Naturally one would imagine 
that the interest of a few individuals should give way 
to general interest ; but individuals manage their aiTairs 
with so much more application, industry and address, 
than the public do theirs, that general interest most 

* Present inember of Parliament for the Jonr:^:i o: Caine, 
in Wdtshire, between whom and our aatlior there subi>isted a 
very close friendbhip. 



'196 • ESSAYS. 

commonly gives way to particular. We assemble par* 
liaments and councils., to have the benefit of their col- 
lected wisdom; but we necessarily have, at the same 
time, the inconvenience of their collected passions, 
prejudices, and private interests. By the help of these 
arlfui men overpower their wisdom, and dupe its pos- 
sessors j and if we may judge by the acts, arrests, and 
edicts, all the world over, for regulating commerce, an 
asscnibiy of great men is the greatest fool upon earth. 
1 have not yet, indeed, thought of a remedy for luxu- 
ry. I am not sure that in a great state it is capable of 
7i remedy ; nor that the evil is in itself always so great 
as it is represented. Suppose we include in the defini- 
tion of luxury all unnecessary expence, and then let us 
♦consider whether laws to prevent such expence arc 
possible to be executed in a great country, and whether, 
Uthey could be executed, our people generally would 
be happier or even richer. Is not the hope of being 
one day able to purchase and enjoy luxuries, a great 
spur to labour and industry ? May not luxury there- 
fore, produce more than it consumes, if, without such 
a spur, people would be, as they are naturally enough 
inclined to be lazy and indolent f To this purpose I 
remember a circumstance. The skipper of a shallop, 
employed between Cape-May and Philadelphia, had 
done us some small service, for which he refused to be 
paid. My wife understanding that he had a daughter, 
ticnt her a presant of a new-fashioned cap. Three 
years after, this skipper being at my house with an old 
farmer of Cape-May, his passenger, he mentioned the 
rap, and how much his daughter had been pleased with 
it. " But (said hej it proved a dear cap to our congre- 
gation." — " How so?*' — '' When my daughter appear- 
ed with it at meeting, it was so much admired, that all 
the girls rt solved to get such caps from Philadelphia ; 
and my wife and I computed that the whole ^ouid not 
have cost less than an hundred pounds." — '^ True, 
(said tlie farmer) but you do not tell all the story. I 
think the cap was nevertheless un advantage to us ; for 



. ESSAYS'. i$r 

it was the first thing that put our girls upon knltimg 
worsted mittens for sale at Philadelphia, that they 
might have wherewithal to buy caps and ribbons there f 
and you know that industry has continued, and is like- 
ly to continue and increase to a much greater value, 
and answer better purposes." — Upon the whole, I vvas 
more reconciled to this little piece of luxury, since not 
only the girls were made happier by fine caps, but the 
Philadelphians by the supply of warm mittens. 

In our commercial towns upon the sea-coast, fortunes 
will occasionally be made. Some of those who grow 
rich will be prudent, live within bounds, and preserve 
what they have gained for their posterity : others fond 
of shewing their wealth, will be extravagant and ruin 
themselves. Laws cannot prevent this : and perhaps 
it is not always an evil to the public. A shilling spent 
idly by a fool, may be picked up by a wiser person, who 
knows better what to do with it. It is tlierefore not 
lost. A vain, silly fellow builds a fine house, furnishes 
it richly, lives in it expensively, and in a few years ru- 
ins himself: but the masons, carpenters, smiths, and 
other honest tradesmen, have been by his employ as- 
sisted in maintaining and raising their families ; the 
farmer has been paid for his labour and encouraged, 
and the estate is now in better hands. In some cases, 
indeed, certain modes of luxury may be a public evil, 
in the same manner as it is a private one. If there ha 
a nation, for instance, that exports its beef and linen, to 
pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a 
great part of its people live upon potatoes, and wear no 
shirts ; wherein does it differ from the sot who lets his 
family starve, and sells his clothes to buy drink I Our 
American commerce is, I confess, a little in this way. 
We sell our victuals to the islands for rum and sugar ; 
the substantial necessaries of life for superfluities. But 
we hav€ plenty, and live well nevertheless, though, by 
being soberer, we might be richer. 

The vast quantity of forest land we have yet to clear, 
and put in order for cultivation, will for a long time 

H 2 



198 . ESSAYS. 

keep the body of our nation laborious and frugal. Form- 
ing an opinion of our people and their manners, by what 
is seen among the inhabitants of the sea-ports, is judg- 
ing from an improper sample. The people of the trad- 
ing towns may be rich and luxurious, while the coun- 
try possesses all the virtues that tend to promote hap- 
piness and public prosperity. Those towns are not 
much regarded by the country ; they are hardly con- 
sidered as an essential part of the states; and the expe- 
rience of the last war has shewn, that their being in pos- 
session of the enemy did not necessarily draw on the 
subjection of the country ; which bravely continued to 
maintain its freedom and independence notwithstand- 
ing. 

It has been computed by some political arithmeti- 
cian, that if every man and woman v/ould work for four 
hours each day on something useful, that labour would 
produce sufficient to procure all the necessaries and 
comforts of life ; want and misery would be banished 
out of the world, and the rest of the twenty-four hours 
might be leisure and pleasure. 

What occasions then so much want and misery ? It 
is the employment of men and women in works that 
produce neither the necessaries or conveniences of life^ 
who, with those that do nothing, consume necessaries 
raised by the laborious. To explain this : 

The first elements of wealth are maintained by la- 
bour, from the earth and waters. I have land, and raise 
corn. With this, if I feed a family that does nothing, 
my corn will be consumed, and at the end of the year I 
shall be no richer than I was at the beginning. But if 
while I feed them, I employ them, some in spinning, 
others in making bricks, &c. for building, the value of 
my corn will be arrested and remain with me, and at 
die end of the year v/e may be all better clothed and 
better lodged. And if, instead of employing a man I 
feed in making bricks, I employ him in fiddling for me, 
the corn he eats is gone, and no part of his manufac- 
ture remains to augment the we^^lth and convenience 



ESSAYS. 159 

of the family ; I shall therefore be the poorer for this 
fiddling man, unless the rest of my family work more, 
or eat less, to make up the deficiency he occasions. 

Look round the world, and see the millions employ- 
ed in doing nothing, or in- something that amounts to 
nothing, when the necessaries and conveniences of life 
are in question. What is the bulk of commerce, for 
which we fight and destroy each other, but the toil of 
millions for superfluities, to the great hazard and loss 
of many lives, by the constant dangers of the sea ?— 
How much labour is spent in building and fitting great 
ships to go to China and Arabia for tea and coffee, to 
the West Indies for sugar, to America for tobacco ?— 
These thmgs cannot be called the necessaries of life, 
for our ancestors lived very comfortably without them. 

A question may be asked : Could ail these people 
now employed in raising, making, or carrying super- 
fluities, be subsisted by raising necessaries ? i think 
they might. The world is large, and a great part of it 
uncultivated Many hundred millions of acres in Asia, 
Africa, and America, are still in a forest ; and a great 
deal even in Europe. On a hundred acres of this for- 
est, a man might become a substantial farmer ; and a 
hundred thousand men employed in clearing each his 
hundred acres, would hardly brighten a spot big enough 
to be visible from the moon, unless with Herschel's 
telescope, so vast are the regions still in wood. 

It is however some comfort to reflect, that, upon the 
whole, the quantity of industry and prudence among 
mankind exceeds the quantity of idleness and folly.-— 
Hence the increase of good buildings, farms cultivated 
and populous cities filled with wealth, all over Europe, 
which a few ages since were only to be found on the 
coasts of the Mediterranean ; and this notwithstanding 
the mad wars continually raging, by which are often 
destroyed in one year the works of many years peace* 
So that we may hope, the luxury of a few merchants 
on the coast will not be the ruin of America* 



«26a SSSAYS.. 

One reflection more, and I will end this lon^ rainb- 
ling letter. Almost all the parts of our bodies require 
some expence. Tlie feet demand shoes ; the legs 
stockings; the rest of the body clothing; and thcbeily 
a good deal of victuals. Our eyes, though exceedingly 
useful, ask, when reasonable, only the cheap assist- 
ance of spectacles, which could not much impair our 
finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes 
that ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should 
want neither line clothes, fine houses, nor fine furnU 
ture. 



ON THE SLAVE TRADE. 

READING in the newspapers the speech of Mr 
Jackson in congress, against meddling with the affaiy 
of slavery, or attempting to mend the condition of slaves, 
it put me in mind of a similar speech, made about an 
hundred years since, by Sidi Mehemet Ibrahim, a mem- 
ber of the Divan of Algiers, which may be seen in 

Martin's account of his consulship, 1687. It was 

against granting the petition af the sect called Erika or 
Purists^ who prayed for the abolition of piracy and sla- 
very, as being unjust. — Mr. Jackson does not quote it; 
perhaps he has not seen it. If therefore, some of its 
reasonings are to be found in his eloquent speech, it 
may only shew that men's interests operate, and are 
operated on, with surprising similarity, in all countries 
and climates, whenever they are under similar circum- 
stances. The African speech, as translated, is as fol- 
lows : 

" Alia Bismillah, &c. God is great, and Mahomet 
is his prophet. 

*' Have these Erika considered the consequences of 
granting their petition ? If we cease our cruises against 
the Christians, how shall we be furnished with the 
commodities their countries produce, and which are so 
necessary for us ? If we forbear to make slaves of theii* 



ESSAYS. £01 

people, who. In this hot climate, are to cultivate our 
lands ? Who are to perform the common labours of 
our city, and of our families ? Must we not then be 
our own slaves ? And is there not more compassion 
and more favour due to us Musselmen than to those 
Christian dogs ? — We have now above fifty thou-sand 
slaves in and near Algiers. This number, if not kept 
up by fresh supplies, will soon diminish fund be gradu- 
ally annihilated. If, then, we cease taking and plun* 
dering the infidel ships, and making slaves of the sea- 
men and passengers, our lands will become of no va- 
lue, for want of cultivation ; the rents of houses in the 
city will sink one half; and the revenues of govern- 
ment, arising from the share of prizts, must be totally 
destroyed. — And for what ? To gtwtify the whim of a 
whimsical sect, wlio would have us not only forbear 
making more slaves, but even manumit tbose we have. 
But who is to indemnify their masters for the loss ; 
will tlie state do it ? Is our treasury sufficient ? Will 
the Erika do it ? Can they do it ? Oi would they, to do 
what they think justice to the slaves do a greater injus- 
tice to the owners ? And if we set our slaves free what 
is to be done with them I Few of them will return to 
their native countries ? they know too well the greater 
hardships they must there be subject to. They will 
not embrace our holy religion : they will not adopt our 
p^anricrs : our people will not polute themselves by in- 
termarrying with them. Must we mciintain them as 
begivars in our streets ? or sufPrr our properties to be 
the prey of their pillage r for men accustomed to sla-' 
very, will not work for a liveiiho(-d, when not com- 
peiied — And what is there so pitiable in their pre- 
sent condition ? Were they not slaves in their own 
countries I Are not Spain, Portugal, France, and the 
Italian states, governed by despots, who hold ail their 
subjects in slavery, without exception ? Even England 
trea'^s her sailors as slaves, for they are, whenever the 
govenment pleases, seized and confined in ships of 
'War, condenmed, not only to work, but to fi^ht for smali 



205' ESSAYS. 

lavages, or a mere subsistence, not better than our slaves 
are allowed by us. Is their condition then made worse 
by their falling into our hands ? No ; they have only 
exchanged one slavery for another ; and I may say a 
better : for here they are brought into a land where 
the son of Islamism gives forth its light, and shines in 
full splendour, and they have an opportunity of making 
themselves acquainted with the true doctrine, and there- 
by saving their immortal souls. Those who remain at 
home, have not that happiness. Sending the slaves 
home, then, would be sending them out of light into 
darkness. 

^' I repeat the question, what is to be done with 
them ? I have heard it suggested, that they may be 
planted in the wilderness, where there is plenty of land 
for them to subsist on, and where they may flourish as a 
free state. — But they are, I doubt, too little disposed to 
labour without compulsion, as well as too ignorant to 
establish good government : and the wild Arabs would 
-soon molest and destroy, or again enslave them. While 
serving us, we take care to provide them with every 
thing ; and they are treated Avith humanity. The la- 
bourers in their own countries, are, as I am informed, 
worse fed, lodged, and clothed. The condition of most 
of them is therefore already mended, and requires no 
farther improvement. Here their lives are in safety. 
They are not liable to be impressed for soldiers, and 
forced to cut one another's Christian throats as in the 
wars of their own countries. If some of the religious 
mad biggots who now teaze us with their silly petitions, 
have in a fit of blind zeal, freed their slaves, it was not 
generosity, it was not humanity that moved them to 
the action ; it was from the conscious burthen of a load 
of sins, and hope, from the supposed merits of so good 
a work, to be excused from damnation. How grossly 
are they mistaken in imagining slavery to be disavowed 
by the Alcoran ! Are not the two precepts to quote no 
more, '^ Masters, treat your slaves with kindness — 
Slaves, serve your masters with cheerfulness and fid^U 



EeSAYS. £03 

ty," clear proofs to the contrary ? Nor can the plunder- 
ing of infidels be in that sacred book forbidden ; since 
it is well known from it, that God hath given the world 
and ali that it contains, to his faithful Musselmen, who 
are to enjoy it, of right, as fust as they can conquer it. 
Let us then hear no more of this detestable proposition, 
the manumission of Christian slaves, the adoption of 
which would be depreciating our lands and houses, and 
thereby depriving so many good citizens of sheir pro- 
perties, create universal discontent, and provoke insur- 
rections, to the endangering of government, and pro- 
ducing general confusion. I have, therefore, no aoubt 
that this wise council will prefer the ccmifort and hap- 
piness of a whole nation of true believers, to tne wliim 
of a few Erika^ and dismiss their petition,'* 

The result was as Martin tells us, that the Divan 
came to this resolution : '' That the doctrine, that the 
plundering and enslaving the Christians is unjust, is at 
best problem.aiical ; but that it is the interest of this 
state to continue the practice, is clear; therefore, let 

the petition be rejected." And it w^as rejected 

accorchngly. 

And since like motiv^^s are apt to produce, in the 
minds of men, like opinions and resolutions, may we 
not venture to predict from this account, that the peti^ 
tions to the parliament of England for abolishing th@ 
slave trade, to say nothing of other legislatures and the 
debates upon them, will have a similar conclusion. 

HiSTORiCUS. 

March 23> 1790. 



OBSKRV \T10NS ON WAR. 

BY the original law of nations, war and extirpation 
were the punishment of injury. Humanizing by de- 
grees, it admitted slavery indeed for deatli: a farther 
sup was the exchange of prisoners mstead of .slavery : 
.anotUerj to respect more the property of private per- 



g04 JaSSAYS. 

3ons under conquest, and be content with acquired do- 
minion. Why should not this law of nations go on im» 
proving ? Ages have intervened between its several 
steps : But as knowledge of late increases rapidly, why 
should not those steps be quickened ? Why should it 
not be agreed to, as the future law of nations, that in 
any war hereafter, the following description of men 
should be undisturbed, have the protection of both sides, 
land be permitted to follow their employments in secu- 
rity ? viz. 

1. Cultivators of the earth, because they labour for 
the subsistence of mankind. 

2. Fishermen, for the same reason. 

3. Merchants and traders in unarmed ships, who ac- 
commodate different nations by communicating and 
exchanging the necessaries and conveniencies of life. 

4. Artists and mechanics, inhabiting and working in 
open towns. 

It is hardly necessary to add, that the hospitals of ene- 
mies should be unmolested— .they ought to be assisted. 
It is for the interest of humanity in general, that the 
occasions of war, and the inducements to it, should be 
diminished. If rapine be abolished, one of the encou- 
ragements to war is taken away ; and peace therefore 
more likely to continue and be lusting. 

The practice of robbuig merchants on the high seas, 
a remnant of the ancient piracy, though itmt.y be acci- 
dentally beneficial to particular persons, is far from be- 
ing profitable to all engaged in it, or to the nation that 
authorises it. In the beginning of a war some rich 
ships are surprised and taken. This encourages the 
first adventurers to fit out more armed vessels ; and 
many others to do the same. But the enemy at the 
same time become more careful ; arm their merchant 
ships better, and render them not so easy to be taken ; 
they go also more under the protection of convoys ■— 
Thus while the privateers to take them are multipli- 
ed, the vessels subject to be taken, and the chances of 
profit, are diminished ; so that many cruises arc made; 



ESSAYS. 2Q6' 

wherein the expences overgo the gains ; and, as is 
the case in other lotteries, though particulars have got 
prizes, the mass of adventurers are losers, the whole 
expence of fitting out all the privateers during a war 
being much greater than the whole amount of goods 
taken. 

Then there is the national loss of all the labour of so 
many men during the time they have been employed 
in robbing; who besides spend what they get in riot, 
drunkenness and debauchery ; lose their habits of in- 
dustry ; are rarely fit for any sober business after a 
peace, and serve only to increase the number of high- 
waymen and house-breakers. Even the undertakers 
who have been fortunate, are by sudden wealth, led in- 
to expensive living, the habit of which continues v/hen 
the means of supporting it cease, and finally ruins 
them : a just punishment for having wantonly and un- 
feelingly ruined many honest, innocent traders and their 
families, whose substance was employed in serving the 
common interest of mankind. 



ON THE IMPRESS OF SEAMEIST. 




edition of his works.) 



JUDGE FOSTER, p. 158. « Every man.''— The 
conclusion here from the tvhole to a part^ does not 
seem to be good logic. If the alphabet should say, 
Let us all fight for the defence of the whole ; that is 
equal, and may therefore be just. But if they should 
say. Let A, B, C, and D go out and fight for us, while 
we stay at home and sleep in whole skins; that is not 
equal and therefore cannot be just. 

lb. " Employ." — If you please. The word signi- 
■fies engaging a man to work for me. by ofTcring him 

S 



-.2-'"' 



06 ' ESSAYS. 



such wages as are sufficient to induce him to prefer my 
service. This is very different from compelling him 
to work on such terms as 1 think proper. 

lb, " This service and employment, 8cc.** — These 
_.are false facts. His employments and service are not 
the same — Under the merchant he goes in an unarm- 
ed vessel, not obliged to fight, but to transport mer- 
chandize. In the king's service he is obliged to fight, 
and to hazard all the dangers of battle. Sickness on 
board of king's ships is also more common and more 
mortal. The merchant's service too he can quit at the 
end of the voyage ; not the king's. Also, the mer- 
chant's wages are much higher. 

lb. « 1 am very sensible, ccc."-- >Here are two things 
put in comparison that are not comparable ; viz. injury 
to seamen, and inconvenience to trade. Inconvenience 
to the whole trade of a nation will not justify injustice 
•to a single seaman. If the trade would suffer without 
his service, it is able and ought to be willing to offer 
him such wages as may induce him to afford his ser- 
vice voluntarily. 

Page 159. '^ Private mischief must be borne with 
patience, for preventing a national calamity.'*~Where 
is this maxim in law and good policy to be found ? And 
how can that be a maxim which is not consistent with 
common sense ? If the maxim had been, that private 
mischiefs, which prevent a national calamity, ought to 
be generously compensated by the nation, one might 
understand it : but that such private mischiefs are on- 
ly to be borne with patience, is absurd ! 

lb. " The expedient, &c. And, &c.*' (Paragraphs 
2 and S.) — Twenty ineffectual or inconvenient schemes 
will not justify one that is unjust. 

lb. '' Upon the foot of, Sec." — -Your reasoning, in- 
deed, like a lie, stands but upon oneybo^ ; truth upon two. 

Page 1 60. " Full wages." — ^Probably the same they 
had in the merchant's service. 

Page 174. " I hardly admit, Sec." (Paragraph 5.)-— • 
When this author speaks of impressing, page 158, he 



ASSAYS. 20?" 

diai'iqishes the horror of the practice as uiuch as pos- 
sible, by presenting to the mind one sailor only suffer- 
ing hqrdahili (as he tenderly calls it) in some fiariicular . 
cases only : and he places against this private mischief 
the inconvenience to the trade of the kingdom. But if, 
as he supposes is often the case, the sailor ^Yho is 
pressed, and obliged to serve for the defence of trade, 
•at the rate of tv/enty-five shillings a month, could get 
three pounds fifteen shillings in the merchant's service, 
you take from him iifty shillings a month ; and if you 
have a 100,000 in your service, you rob this honest in- 
dustrious part of society, and their poor families, of 
250,0001. per month, or three millions a year, and at 
the same time oblige them to hazard their lives in 
fighting for the defence of your trade ; to the defer^ce 
of which all ought indeed to contribute (and sailers- 
among the rest) in proportion to their proiits by it i 
but this three millions is more xhan their share, if they 
did not pay with their persons ; but when you forca 
liiat, meihinks ycu should excuse the other. 

But it may be said, to give the king's seamen mer- 
chant's Wiiges would cost the nation too much, and call 
for more taxes. The question then V7ill aTiiount to 
this ; v/hcther it be just in a community, that the rich- 
er part should compel the poorer to light in defence of 
them and their properties, tbr such wages as they think 
lit to allow, and punish them if they refuse ? c5ur au- 
thor tells us that it is " legal?' I have not law enouj^rh 
to dispute his authorities, but I cannot persuade my- 
self that it is equitable. I will however, own ibr the. 
present, that it may be lawful wlien necessary ; but. 
then I contend that it nuiy be used so as to produce the 
same good effects — .the public security y without doing 
so much intolerable injustice as attends the impressing 
common seamen. In order to be better understood, I 
would premise two things ; First, that voluntary sea- 
men may be had for the service, if they v/ere sufficient- 
ly paid. The proof is, that to serve in the same ship, 
and incur the same danger, you have no occasion ;o 



i>08 ^ ESSAYS. 

impress captains, lieutenants, second lieutenants, micU 
shipmen, pursers, nor any other officers. Why, but 
that the profits of their places, or the emoluments ex- 
pected, are sufficient inducemetits ? The business then 
is, to find money, by impressing, sufficient to make the 
sailors ail volunteers, as well as their officers ; and this 
without any fresh burthen upon trade. The second of 
tny premises is, that twenty-five shillings a month, with 
his share of salt beef, pork, and pease pudding, being 
found sufficient for the subsistence of a hard working 
seaman, it will certainly be so for a sedentary scholar or 
gentleman. I would then propose to form a treasury, 
out of which encouragements to seamen should be paid. 
To fill this treasury, I would impress a number of civil 
officers, who at present have great salaries, oblige 
them to serve in their respective offices for twenty-five 
shillings a month, with their shares of mess provisions, 
and throw the rest of their sakiries into the seamen's 
treasury. If such a press- war rant were given me to 
execute, the first 1 v/ould press should be a Recorder 
of Bristol, or a Mr. Justice Foster, because I might have 
need of his edifying example, to show how much im- 
pressing ought to be borne with ; for he would cer- . 
tainly find, that though to be reduced to twenty-five, ^ 
shillings a month might be a private mischiefs yet that, || 
agreeably to his maxim of law and good policy, it 
ought to be borne with patience^ for preventing a na- 
tional calamity. Then I would press the rest of the 
Judges; and, opening the red book, I v/ould press 
every civil officer of government from 501. a year sala- 
ry, up to 50,0001. which would throw an immense sum 
into our treasury ; and these gentlemen could not com- 
plain, since they would receive twenty-five shillings a 
month, and their rations : and this without being obliged 
to fight. Lastly, I think I would impress * * * * 



ESSAYS, 5?09i* 

9N THE GRIMIXAL LAWS, AND THE PHACTICE OP' 

PRIVATEERING. 

Letter to Bsr^jamin Vaii^han, Esq. 

March Uth, 1785^ 

HY DEAR FRIEND, 

• 

AMONG tlie pamphlets you lately sent me, vrsiS one- 
entitled, Thoughts on Executive Justice* In return 
for that, I send you one on the same subject. Ohser* 
vations concernnnt I* Execution dc l* jlrticle II, de la 
Declaration sur le Vol. They are both addressed to 
the Judges, and written, as you will see, in a very dif- 
ferent spirit. The English author is for hanging alE 
thieves. The Frenchman is, for proportioning punish- 
ments to offences. 

If we really believe, as we profess to believe, that the 
^w of Moses was the law of God, the dictates of di- 
vine wisdom, infinitely superior to human ; on what 
principles do we ordain death as the punishment of aa 
offence,^ w' hich according to that law, was only to be 
punished by a restitution of four-fold ?— -To put a maa 
to death for an ofience which does not deserve death, 
is it not a murder ? And as the French writer saysy 
Doit'Onpueirun delit contre la socle te par un crime con^ 
trc la nature ? 

Superfluous prop^erty is the creature of society.—-* 
Simple and mild laws were sufficient to guard the pro* 
perty that was merely necessary. The savages' bow, 
his hatchet, and his coat of skins, were sufficiently se- 
cured, without law, by the fear of personal resentment 
and retaliation. When, by virtue of the first laws, pari; 
of the society accumulated wealth, and grew powerful^ 
they enacted others more severe, and would protccj^ 
their property at the expence of humanity. This was 
abusing their power, and commencing a tyranny. If a 
savage, before he entered into society, had been tol^^, 
*' Your neighbour by this means, may become owuepij 

S 2 



no ESSAYS. 

of an hundred deer ; but if your brother, or your son, 
or yourself, having no deer of your own, and being 
hung^ry, should kill one, an infamous death must be the 
consequence :" he would probably have preferred his 
liberty, and his common right of killing any deer, to all 
the advantages of society that might be proposed to 
him. 

That it is better a hundred guilty persons should 
escape, than that one innocent person should suffer, is 
a maxim that has been long and generally approved ; 
never, that I know of, controverted. Even the san- 
guinary author of the thoughts agrees to it, adding 
well, « that the very thought of m^wre^^ innocence, and 
much more that of suffering' innocence, must awaken 
all our tcnderest and m.ost compassionate feelings, and 
at the same time raise our highest indignation against 
the instruments of it. But,*' he adds, " there is no 
clanger of cither from a strict adherence to the laws." 
— Really! — Is it then impossible to make an unjust 
law? and if the iav/ itself be unjust, may it not be the 
very '^instrument" which ought " to raise the author*s, 
«,nd every body's highest indignation ?" I see, in the 
last newspapers from London, that a woman is capital- 
ly convicted at the Old Bailey, for privately stealing out 
of a shop, some gauze, value fourteen shillings and 
three-pence: Is there any proportion between the 
injury done by a theft, value fourteen shillings and 
three-pence, and the punishment of a human creature 
by death on a gibbet ? Might not that woman, by her 
labour have made the reparation ordained by God, in 
paying fourfold ? Is not all punishment inflicted beyond 
the merit of the offence, so much punishment of inno- 
rence? In this light, how vast is the annual quantity, 
of not only injured but suffering innocence, in almost 
all the civilized states of Europe ! 

* .But it^seems to have been thought that this kind of 
innoc'ei^cc may be punished by way of preventing 
crimes. I have read, indeed, of a cruel Turkjn Bar- 
^ary, who, whenever he bought a new Christicm slave- 



ESSAYS. 211 

ordered him immediately to be hung up by the legs,. 
and to receive a hundred blows of a cudgel on the soles 
of his feet, that the severe sense of the punishment, and 
fear of incurring it thereafter, might prevent the faults 
that should merit it. Our author himself vj^ould hard- 
ly approve entirely of this Turk's conduct in the go- 
vernment of slaves ; and yet he appears to recommend 
something like it for the government of English sub- 
jects, when he applauds the reply of Judge Barnet to 
the convict horse-stealer; who being asked what he 
had to say why judgment of death should not pass against 
him, and answered that it was hard to hang a man for 
only stealing a horse, was told by the judge, " Man, 
thou art not to be hanged only for stealing a horse, but 
that horses may not be stolen." The man's answer, if 
candidly examined, will, I imagine, appear reasonable, 
as being founded on the eternal principle of justice and 
equity, that punishments should be proportioned to of- 
fences, and the judge's reply brutal and unreasonable, 
though the w^riter wishes all judges to carry it with 
them whenever they go to the circuit, and to bear it in 
their minds, as containing a wise reason for all the pe- 
nal statutes which they are called upon to put in exe* 
cution. It at once illustrates (says he) the true grounds 
and reasons of all capital punishments whatsoeverj 
namely, that every man's property, as well as his life, 
may be held sacred and inviolate.** Is there then no 
difference in value between property and life ? If I 
think it right that the crime of murder should be pun- 
ished with death, not only as an equal punishment of 
the crime, but to prevent other murders, does it follow 
that I must approve of the same punishment for a lit- 
tle invasion on my property by theft ? If I am not my- 
self so barbarous, so bloody-minded, and revengeful, 
as to kill a fellow-creature for stealing from me four- 
teen shillings and three-pence, how can I approve of a 
law that does it ? Montesquieu, who was himself a 
judge, endeavours to impress other maxims. He must 
have known what humane judges fgel on such oces* 



555^ ESSAYSji 

sions, and what the effects of those feelings : vMd, s<> 
far fron) thuikhig that severe and excessive punish- 
ments prevent crimes, he asserts, as quoted by our 
French writer, thyt 

*' L^atrocite des loix en emfieche l* execution, 
*' horsque la peine est sans mesure^ on est soiivent ob-^ 
<' lige de lui prefer er C impunite, 

<' La cause des tons les relachemens vient de C impxi* 
** nite des crimes et non de la inoderation des peines?^ 

It is said by those who know Europe generally, that 
there are more thefts committed and punished annually 
in England than in all the other nations put together. 
If this be so, there must be a cause or causes for such 
depravity in our common people. May not one be the 
deficiency of justice and morality in our national gov-; 
^prnment, manifested in our oppressive conduct to sub- 
jects, and unjust wars on our neighbours I View the 
long persisted in, unjust, monopolizing treatment o£ 
Ireland, at length acknowledged i View the plunder- 
ing government exercised by our merchants in the In- 
dies ; the confiscating war made upon the America^ 
colonies ; and, to say nothing of those upon France and 
Spain, view the late war upon Holland, which \yas seen 
by impartial Europe in no other light than that of a wai^ 
pf rapine and pillage ; the hopes of an immense and 
easy prey being its only apparent, and probably its trua 
and real motive and encouragement. Justice is as 
strictly due between neighbour nations as betweei> 
neighbour citizens. A highwayman is as much a rob- 
t)er when he plunders in a gang, as when single ; and 
a nation that makes an unjust war is only a great gang. 
After employing your people in robbing the Dutch, it 
is strange that, being out of that employ by peace, they; 
still continue robbing, and rob one another ? Firutericj 
as the French call it, or privateering is the universal 
bent of the English nation, at home and abroad, where- 
ver settled. No less than seven hundred privateers 
were, it is said, commissioned in the last war ! These 
were fitted out by merchants, tQ prey upon oth^r mer# 



ESSAYS. 213 

chants, who have never done them any injury. Is there 
probably any one of those privateering merchants of 
London, vrho were so ready to rob the merchants of 
Amsterdam, that would not as readily plunder another 
London merchant of the next street, if he could do it 
with the same impunity 1 The avidity, the alieni afiiie' 
tens is the same ; it is the fear alone of the gallows that 
makes the difference. How then can a nation, which, 
among the honestest of its people, have so many thieves 
by inclination, and whose government encouraged and 
commissioned no less than seven hundred gangs of 
robbers ; how can such a nation have the face to con- 
demn the crime in individuals, and hang up twenty of 
them in a morning 1 It naturally puts one in mind of a 
Newgate anecdote : One of the prisoners complained, 
that in the night somebody had taken his buckles out 
of his shoes, " What the devil 1" says another, " have 
we \\\c\Y thieves amongst us ? It must not be suffered. 
Let us search out the rogue, and pump him to deuth." 
There is, however, one late instance of an English 
merchant who will not profit by such ill-gotten gain.-— 
He was, it seems, part owner of a ship, which the other 
owners thought fit to employ as a letter of marque, and 
which took a number of French prizes. The booty 
being shared, he has now an agent here enquiring, by 
an advertisment in the Guzette, for those who suffered 
the loss, in order to make them, as far as in him lies,^ 
restitution. This conscientious man is a Quaker. The 
Scotch presbyterians were formerly as tender ; for 
there is still extant an ordinance of the town ot Edin-. 
burgh, made soon after the reformation, " forbidding 
the purchase of prize goods, under pain of losing the 
freedom of the burgh for ever, with other punishments 
^t the will of the magistrate ; the practice of making 
prizes being contrary to a good conscience, and the rule 
of treating Christian brethren as we would wish to be 
treated ; and such goods are not to be sold by any god- 
ly men wit/wi this burgh,'*^ The race of these godly 
men in Scotland is probably e;;tinct, or their principles 



214, ESSAYS. 

•abandoned, sinc€, as far as that nation had a hand in pro- 
mpting the war against the colonies, prizes and confis- 
cations are believed to have been a considerable motive* 
Ii has been for some time a generally-received opi- 
nion, that a military man is not to enquire whether a 
^var be just or unjust ; he is to execute his orders. Ail 
princes who are disposed to become tyrants, must pro- 
bably approve of this opinion, and be willing to esta- 
blish it^ but it is not a dangerous one ! since, on that 
principle, if the tyrant commands his army to attack 
and destroy, not only an unoffending neighbour nation, 
but even his own subjects, the army is bound to obey. 
A negro slave in our colonies, being commanded by 
his master to rob or murder a neighbour, or do any 
other imnaoral act, may refuse; and the magistrate 
%vill protect him in his refusal. The slavery then of a 
soldier is worse than that of a negro ! A conscientious 
officer if not restrained by tli€ apprehension of its be- 
ing imputed to another cause, may indeed resign ra- 
ther than be employed in an unjust war, but the pri- 
vate men are slaves for life, and they are perhaps inca- 
pable of judging for themselves. We can only la- 
ment their fate, and still more that of a sailor, who is 
often dragged by force from his honest occupation, and. 
compelled' to imbrue his hands in perhaps innocent 
blood. But methinks it well beho/es merchants (men 
more enlightened by their education, and perfectly 
free from any such force or obligation) to consider well 
of the justice of a wai , before they voluntarily cngar^^e 
a gang of ruffians to attack their feilow^merchants of a 
neighbouring nation, to plunder them oi their proper- 
ty, and perhaps ruin them and their iumilies, if they 
yield it ; or, to wound, maim, and murder them, if 
they attempt to defend it. Yet these things are done 
by Christian merchants, whether a war be just or un- 
just : and it can hardly be just on both sides. They are 
done by English and American merchants, who never- 
theless' complain of private theft, and hang by dczen<5- 
the thieves they have taught by their own example. 



fiSSAYSr '2-1^ 

It is high time, Tor the sake of humanity, that a stop 
were put to this enormity. The United States of Ame- 
rica, though better situated than any European nation 
to make profit by privateering, (most of the trade of Eu- 
rope, with the West-IndiCs passing before their doorsi 
are, as far as in them lies, endeavouring to abolish the 
practice, by offering, in all their treaties with other pow- 
ers, an article, engaging solemnly, that, in case of future 
war, no privateer shall be commissioned on either 
side ; and that unarmed merchant ships, on both sides^ 
shall pursue their voyages unmolested.* This will be 
a happy improvement of the law of nations. The hu- 
mane and the just cannot but wish general success to 
the proposition. 

With unchangeable esteem and affection, 

I am, my dear friend, 

Ever yours. 

• This offer having' been accepted by the late king of Prus- 
sia, a treaty of amity and commerce was concluded between 
that Monarch and the United States, containing the following 
humane, philanthrophic article ; in the formation of which 
Dr. Franklin, as one of the American Plenipotentiaries, was 
principally concerned, viz. 

ARTICLE XXIII. 

If war should arise between the two contracting parties, 
the merchants of either country, then residing" in the other, 
shall be allowed to remain nine months to collect tkeir debts, 
and settle their affairs, and may depart freely, carrying off 
all their effects without molestation or hindrance ; and all 
women and childen, scholars of every faculty, cultivators of 
the earth, artisans, manufacturers, and fishermen unarmed 
and inhabiting unfortified towns, villages, or places, and in 
general all others whose occupations are for the common sub- 
sistence and benefit of mankind, shall be allowed to continue 
their respective employments, and shall not be molested in 
their persons, nor shall their houses or goods be burnt, or 
otherwise destroyed, nor their fields wasted, by the armed 
force of the enemy, into whose power, by the events of war, 
they may happen to fall, but if any thing is necessary to be 
taken from rhem for the use of such armed force, the same 
shall be paid for at a reasonable price. And all merchants 



216 ESSAYS, 

REMARKS CONCERNING THE SAVAGES OF NORtH 

AMERICA. 

SAVAGES we call them because their manners dif- 
fer from oiirs, which we think the perfection of civili- 
ty ; they think the same of theirs. 

Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of differ- 
ent nations with impartiality, we should find no people 
so rude as to be without any rules of politeness ; nor 
any so polite as not to have some remains of rudeness. 

The Indian men, when young, are hunters and war- 
riors ; when old, counsellors ; for all their government 
is by the counsel or advice of sages : there is no force, 
there are no prisons, no officers to compel obedience, 
or inflict punishment Hence they generally study 
oratory; the best speaker having the most influence. 
The Indian women till the ground, dress the food, nurse 
and bring up the children, and preserve and hand down 
to posterity the memory of public transactions. These 
employments of men and women are accounted natur- 
al and honorable. Having few artificial wants, they 
have abundance of leisure for improvement by conver- 
sation. Our laborious manner of life, compared with 
theirs, they esteem slavish and base ; and the learning 
on which we value ourselves they regard as frivolous 
and useless. An instance of this occured at the treaty 
of Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, anno 1744, between the 
government of Virginia and the Six Nations. After 
the principal business was settled, the commissioners 
from Virginia acquainted the Indians by a speech, that 
there was at Williamsburg a college, with a fund, for 



and trading vessels employed in exchanging the products of 
different places, and thereby rendering the necessaries, con- 
veniences, and comforts of human life more easy to be obtain- 
ed, and more general, shall be allowed to pass free and un- 
molested ; and neither of the contracting powers shall grant 
or issue any commission to any private armed vessels em- 
powering them to take or destroy such trading vessels, or 
interrupt such commerce. 



KSSAYS. ^ 21? 

educating Indian youth, and that if the chiefs of the Six 
Nations would send down half a dozen of their sons to 
that college, the government would take care that they 
should be well provided for, and instructed in all the 
learning of the white people. It is one of the Indian 
rules of politeness not to answer a public proposition 
the same day that it is made ; they think it would be 
treating it as a light matter ; and they shew it respect 
by taking time to consider it, as of a matter important. 
They therefore deferred their answer till the day fol- 
lowing ; when their speaker began, by expressing their 
deep sense of the kindness of the Virginia government, 
in making them that offer ; " for we know (says he) 
that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in 
those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young 
men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. 
We are convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us 
good by your proposal, and we thank you heartily.— 
But you who are wise must know, that different nations 
have different conceptions of things ; and you will there- 
fore not take it amiss, if our ideas of this kind of edu- 
cation happen not to be the same with yours. We have 
had some experience of it ; several of our young peo- 
ple were formerly brought up at the colleges of the 
northern provinces ; they wxre instructed in all your 
sciences ; but when they came back to us, they were 
bad runners ; ignorant of every means of living in the 
woods ; unable to bear either cold or hunger ; knew 
neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill an ene- 
my ; spoke our language imperfectly ; were therefore 
neither fit for hunters, warriors, or counsellors; they 
were totally good for nothing. We are however, not the 
less obliged by your kind offer, tho' we decline accept- 
ing h ; and to show our grateful sense of it, if the gen- 
tlemen of Virginia will send us a dozen of their sons, 
we will take great care of their education, instruct them 
in all we know, and make men of them." 

Having frequent occasions to hold public councils, 
tj>^y have acquired great order and decency in conduct- 

T 



218 ESSAYS. 

ing them. The old men sit in the foremost ranks, the 
warriors in the next, and the women and children in 
the liindmost. The business of the women is to take 
exact notice of what passes, imprint it in their memo- 
ries, for they have no writing, and communicate it to 
their children. They are the records of the council, 
and they preserve tradition of the stipulations in trea- 
ties a hundred years back; which, when we com- 
pare with our writings, we always find exact. He that 
would speak, rises. The rest observe a profound si- 
lence. When he has finished and sits down, they leave 
him five or sii^ minutes t(\ recollect, that if he has omit- 
ted any thing he intended to say, or has any thing to 
add, he may rise again and deliver it. To interrupt 
another, even in common conversation, is reckoned 
highly indecent. How different this is from the con- 
duct of a polite British House of Commons, where 
scarce a day passes without some confusion, that makes 
the speaker hoarse in calling to order ; and how differ- 
ent from the mode of conversation in many polite com- 
panies of Europe, where, if you do not deliver your 
sentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in the mid- 
dle of it by the impatient loquacity of those you con- 
verse with, and never suffered to finish it ! 

The politeness of these savages in conversation, is, 
indeed carried to excess ; since it does not permit them 
to contradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in 
their presence. By this means they indeed avoid dis- 
putes ; but then it becomes difficult to know their 
minds, or what impression you make upon them. The 
missionaries who have attempted to conveit them to 
Christianity, all complain of this as one of the great dif- 
ficulties of their mission* The Indians hear with pa- 
tience the truths of the gospel explained to them, and 
give their usual tokens of assent and approbation; you 
would think they were convinced. No such matter. 
It is mere civility. 

A Swedish minister having assembled the chiefs of 
the Susquehannah Indians, made a sermon to them, ac- 



ESSAYS. 219 

quainting them with the principal historical facts on 
which our religion is founded ; such as the fall of our 
first parents by eating an apple ; the coming of Christ 
to repair the mischief; his miracles and sufferings, 
&c. When he had finished, an Indian orator stood up 
to thank him. « What you have told us,'* says he, " is 
all very good. It is indeed bad to eat apples. It is 
better to make them all into cider. We are much ob- 
liged by your kindness in coming so far to tell us those 
things, which you have heard from your mothers. In 
return, I will tell you some of those we have heard 
from ours. 

*' In the beginning, our fathers had only the flesh of 
animals to subsist on ; and if their hunting was unsuc- 
cessful, they were starving. Two of our young hun- 
ters having killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to 
broil some parts of it. When they were about to sa- 
tisfy their hunger, they beheld a beautiful young wo- 
snan descend from the clouds, and seat herself on that 
hill which you see yonder among the Blue Mountains. 
They said to each other, it is a spirit that perhaps has 
smelt our broiling venison, and wishes to eat of it ; let us^ 
oifer some to her. They presented her with the tongue : 
she was pleased with the taste of it, and said, " Your 
kindness shall be rewarded. Come to this place after 
thirteen moons, and you shall find something that will 
be of great benefit in nourishing you and your children 
to the latest generations." They did so, and to their 
surprise, lound plants they had never seen before ; but 
which, from that ancient time, have been constantly, 
cultivated among us, to our great advantage. Where 
her right hand had touched the ground, they found 
maize ; where her left hand had touched it, they found 
kidney beans ; and where her backside had sat on it, to- 
bacco.^' The good missionary, disgusted with this idle 
tale, said, "What I delivered to you were sacred truths j 
but what you tell me is mere fable, fiction and false- 
^hood." The Indian, offended, replied, " My brother, 
it seems your friends have not done you justice in youi* 



3:^0 ESSA\B. 

education ; they have not well instructed you in the 
rules of common civility. You saw that we, who un- 
derstand and practise those rules, believed all your sto- 
ries, why do you refuse to believe ours ?" 

When any of them come into our towns, our people 
are apt to crowd round them, gaze upon them, and in- 
commode them where they desire to be private : this 
they esteem great rutlenes-s, and the effect of the want 
of instruction in the rules of civility and good nianners, 
** We have," say they, " as much curiosity as you, and 
when you come into our towns, we wish for opportu- 
ijities of looking at you ; but for this purpose we hide 
ourselves behind bushes where you are to pass, and 
never intrude ourselves into your company." 

Their manner of entering one another's villages has 
likewise its rules. It is reckoned uncivil in travelling 
strangers to enter a village abruptly, without giving 
notice of their approach. Therefore, as soon as^they ar- 
live within hearing, they stop and hallow, remaining 
there till invited to enter. Two old men usually come 
out to them, and lead tluem in. There is in eveiy 
village a vacant dwelling, called the stranger's house. 
Here they are placed, while tlie old men go round 
from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants that stran- 
gers are arrived, who are probably hungry and weary; 
and every one sends them what he can spare of victualsj 
and skins to repose on. When the strangers are re- 
freshed, pipes and tobacco are brought ; and then, but 
not before", conversation begins, with enquiries who 
they are, whether bound, what news, Sec. and it usual- 
ly ends with offers of service ; if the strangers have 
occasion for guides, or any necessaries for continuing 
their journey ; and nothing is exacted fpr the enter- 
tainment 

The same hospitality, esteemed among them as a 
principal virtue, is practised by private persons ; of 
which Conrad Wciser^ our interpreter, gave me the fol- 
lowing instance. He had been naturalized among the 
Six Nationfj, and spoke v;cll the IHohock language. In 



going through the Indian country, to carry a message 
from our Governor to the Council at Onondaga^ he cal- 
led at the habitation of Canassetego, an old acquain* 
tanccj who embraced him, spreading furs for him to sit 
on, placed before him some boiled beans and venison, 
and mixed some rum and water for his drink. When 
he was well refreshed, and had lit his pipe, Canassetego 
began to converse with him ; asked how he had fared 
the many years since they had seen each other, whence 
he then came, what occasioned the journey, 8cc, Con- 
rad answered all his questions, and when the discourse 
began to flag, the Indian, to continue it, said, " Conrad, 
you have lived long among the white people, and know 
something of their customs ; I have been sometimes 
at Albany, and have observed, that once in seven days 
they shut up their shops, and assemble all in the great 
house ; tell me what it is for ! " What do they do there ?"' 
" They meet there,*' says Conrad, " to hear and learn 
good things*^ " I do not doubt," says the Indian, " that 
they tell you so ; they have told me the same : but I 
doubt the truth of what they say, and I will tell you my 
reasons. I went lately to Albany, to sell my skins, and 
buy blankets, knives, powder, rum, 8cc. You know I 
used generally to deal with Hans Hanson; but I was 
a little inclined this time to try some other merchants. 
However, I called first upon Hans, and asked him what 
he would give for beaver. He said he could not give 
more than four shillings a pound : but, says he, I can- 
not talk on business now ; this is the day when we meet 
together to learn good things^ and I am going to the 
meeting. So I thought to myself, since 1 cannot do 
any business to-day, I may as well go to the meeting 
too, and I went with him. There stood up a man in 
black, and began to talk to the people very angrily. I 
did not unders^tand what he said ; but perceiving that he 
looked much at me, and at Hanson, I imagined he was 
angry at seeing me there : so I went out, sat down 
near the house, struck fire, and lit my pipe, waiting till 
the meeting should break up. I thought too, that 

T 3 



222 ESSAYS. 

the man liad mentioned something of beaver, and I sus- 
pected it might be the subject of their meeting. So when 
they come out I accosted my merchant. ' Well Hans', 
says I, ^ I hope you agreed to give more than four shil- 
lings a pound.' ^ No,' says he, 'I cannot give so much, 
I cannoL give more than three shillings and six-pence/ 
1 then spoke to several other dealers, but they all sung 
the s?.mc song, three and six-pence, three and six-pence. 
This made it clear to me that my suspicion was right ; 
and that whatever they pretended of meeting to learn 
good things^ the purpose was to consult how to cheat 
Indians in the price of beaver. Consider but a little, 
Conrad, und you must be of my opinion. If they met 
)>o often \.o\Q.\\vi\ good i kings, ihty would certainly have 
learned some before this time. But they are still ig- 
norant. You know our practice. If a white man, in 
travellmg through our country, enters one of our cab- 
ins, we all treat him as I do you : we dry him if he is 
wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him meat 
and drink, that he may allay his thurst and hunger : and 
wc spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on ; we 
demand nothing in return.* But if I go into a white 
man's house at Albany, and ask for victuals and drink, 
they say. Where is your money, and if I have none, they 
say, Get out you Indian dog. You see they have not 
yet learned those little good things, that we need no 
meetings to be instructed in, because our mothers 
taught them to us when we were children ; and there- 
fore it is impossible their meetings should be, as they 

* It is remarkable, that in all ages and countries, hospitali- 
ty has been allowed as the virtue of those, whom the civiliz- 
ed were pleased to call Barbarians : the Greeks celebrated 
the Scythians for it. The Saracens possessed it eminently; 
:md it Is to this day the reigning virtue of the wild Arabs.— 
St. Faul too, in his relation of his voyage and shipwreck on 
•"th« island of Melita, says, ** The barbarous people shewed 
us no little kindness, for they kindled a fire, and received us 
every one, because of the present rain, and because of the 
cold. This note is taken from a small collection of Frank 
Ika's papers printed for J>illy. 



ESSAYS. " 2-23 

say, for any such purpose, or have any' such effect ; 
they are only to contrive the cheating of Indians in the 
firice of beaver. 



TO Mr. DUBOURG, CONCERNING THE DISSENTIONS 
liETVV'EEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. 

London, Oct. 2, 1770. 

I SEE with pleasure that we think pretty much alike 
on the subject of English America. We of the colo- 
nies have never insisted that we ought to be exempt 
from contributing to the common expences necessary 
to support the prosperity of the Empire. We only as- 
sert, that having parliaments of our own, and not hav- 
ing representatives in that of Great Britain, our parlia- 
ments are the only judges of what we can, and what we 
ought to contribute in this case ; and that the English 
parliament has no right to take our money without our 
consent. — In fact, the British empire is not a single 
state ; it comprehends many ; and though the parlia- 
ment of Great-Britain has arrogated to itself the pow- 
er of taxing the colonies, it has no more right to do so, 
than it has to tax Hanover. We have the same king, 
but not the same legislatures. 

The dispute between the two countries has already 
cost England many millions sterling, which it has lost 
in its commerce, and America has in this respect been 
a proportionable gainer. This commerce consisted 
principally of superfluities ; objects of luxury and fash- 
ion, which we can well do without ; and the resolution 
we have formetl of importing no more till our griev- 
ances are redressed, has enabled many of our infant 
manufactures to take root ; and it will not be easy to 
make our people abandon them in future, even should 
a connection more cordial than ever succeed the pre- 
sent troubles. — I have, indeed, no doubt that the parlia- 
ment of England will filially abandon its present pre- 
tensions, and leave us to the peaceable enjoyment of 
our rights and privileges, B. Fbaneuk. 



224 ESSAYS. 

^i Comfiarison of the Conduct of the ancient Jews ^ and 

of the Aii'TiFEDERALisrs in the United States of 

America, 

A ZEALOUS advocate for the proposed Federal 
Constitution in a certain public assembly said that *<^ the 
repugnance of a great part of mankind to good govern- 
ment was such, that he believed, that if an angel from 
heaven was to bring down a constitution formed there 
for our use, it would nevertheless meet with violent op- 
position."— He was reproved for the supposed extra- 
vagance of the sentiment ; and he did not justify it.— 
Probably it might not have immediately occured tQ 
him that the experiment had been tried, and that the 
event was recorded in the most faithful of all histories, 
the Holy Bible ; otherwise he might, as it seems to 
me, have supported his opinion by that unexceptionable 
authority. 

The Supreme Being had been pleased to nourish 
up a single family, by continued acts of his attentive 
providence, 'till it became a great people : and having 
rescued them from bondage by many miracles per- 
formed by his servant Moses, he personally delivered 
to that chosen servant, in presence of the whole nation, 
a constitution and code of laws for their observance ; 
accompanied and sanctioned with promises of great re- 
wards, and threats of severe punishments, as the con- 
sequence of their obedience or disobedience. 

This constitution, though the Deity himself was to 
be at its head (and it is therefore called by political 
writers a Theocracy) could not be carried into execu- 
tion but my means of his ministers; Aaron and his swis 
were therefore commissioned to b«, with Moses, the 
first established ministry of the new government. 

One would have thought, that the appointment of men 
who had distinguished themselves in procuring the li- 
berty of their nation, and had hazarded their lives in 
openly opposing the will of 3 powerful monarch who 
would have retained that nation in slavery, might have 
l^een an appoimn^ent acceptable to .a gratdvil people j 



E5SAYS, 22^ 

and that a constitution, framed for them by the Deity 
himself, might on that account have been secure of an 
universal welcome reception. Yet there were, in every 
one of the thirteen tribes, some discontented, restless 
spirits, who were continually exciting them to reject 
the proposed new government, and this from various 
motives. 

Many still retained an affection for Egypt, the land of 
their nativity, and these, wherever they felt any inconve- 
nience or hardship, through the natural and unavoidable 
effect of their change of situation, exclaimed against 
their leaders as the authors of their trouble ; and were 
not only for returning into Egypt, but for stoning theif 
deliverers.* Those inclined to idolatry were displeas- 
ed that their golden calf was destroyed. Many of the 
chiefs thought the new constitution might be injurious 
to their particular interests, that the profitable places 
would be engrossed by the families and friends of Mo* 
ses and Aaron^ and others equally well-born excluded.f 
In Josephus, and the Talmud, we learn some particu- 
lars, not so fully narrated in the scripture. We are 
there told, " that Corah was ambitious of the priest- 
hood ; and offended that it was conferred on Aaron j 
and this, as he said, by the authority of Moses only, 
tvithout the consent of the fieople. He accused Moses 
of having, by various artifices, fraudulently obtained the 
government, and deprived the people of their liberties f 
•and of conspiring with Aaron to perpetuate the tyran- 
ny in their family. Thus, though Corah's real motive 
was the supplanting of Aaron, he persuaded the peo- 
J)le he .meant only the public good ; and they, moved 
by his insinuations, began to cry out — " Let us main» 
tain the common liberty of our respective tribes ; we 

* Numbers, chap, xlv. 

f Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 3. " And they gathered them- 
selves together against Moses and Aaron, and said imtoth^m, 
ye take too much upon you, seeing all the congregations are 
holy, every one of them — wherefcre then lift ye up your- 
selves above the congregation. 



^6 ESSAYS. , 

have freed ourselves from the slavery imposed upon 
us by the Egyptians, and shall we suffer ourselves to 
be made slaves by Moses ? If we must have a master, 
it were better to return to Pharoah, who at least fed us 
with bread and unions, than to serve this new tyrant, wlio 
by his operations has brought us into danger or femine.^* 
Then they called in question the reality of his confer^ 
ence with God ; and objected to the privacy of the 
naeetings, and the preventing any of the people from 
being present at the colloques, or even approaching the 
place, as grounds of great suspicion. They accused 
Moses also of fieculation ; as embezzling part of the 
golden spoons and the silver chargers, that the princes 
had offered at the dedication of the altar,* and the of- 
fering of the gold of the common people,t as well as 
most of the poll-tax 4 and Aaron they accused of pock- 
eting much of the gold of which he pretended to have 
made a molten calf. Besides peculation, they charged 
Moses with ambition ; to gratify which passion, he had, 
they said, deceived the people, by promising to bring 
them to a land flowing with milk and honey ; instead of 
doing which, he had brought them from such a land ; 
and that he thought light of this mischief, provided he 
could make himself an absolute prince. % That, to sup- 
port the new dignity with splendour in his family, the 
partial poll-tax already levied and given to Aaronj! w^as 
to be followed by a general one* which would probably 
be augmented from time to time, if he were suffered 
to go on promulgating new laws on pretence of new 
occasional revelations of the divine will, till their whole 
fortunes were devoured by that aristocracy." 

• Numbers, chap. vii. f Exodus, chap. xxsv. ver. 22. 

^ Numbers, chap. iii. and Exodus, chap. xxx. 

5 Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 13. " It is a small thing that 
thou hast brought us up out of a land flowing with milk and 
honey, to kill us in this wilderness, except thou make lhy» 
aelf altogether a prince over us !" 

II Numbers, chap. iii. ♦ Exodus, chap. xxx. 



ESSAYS. W 

Moses denied the charge of peculation ; and his ac- 
cusers were destitute of proofs to support it ; though 
facts^ if real, are in their nature capable of proof. " I 
have not," said he, (with holy confidence in the pre- 
sence of God) " I have not taken from this people the 
value of an ass, nor done them any other injury." But 
his enemies had made the charge, and with some suc- 
cess among the populace, for no kind of accusation is 
so readily made, or easily believed, by knaves, as the 
accusation of knaveiy. 

In fine, no less than two hundred and fifty of the 
principal men "*famous in the congregation, men of 
renown,*" heading and exciting the mob, worked them 
up to such a pitch of phrenzy, that they called out, stone 
'em, stone 'em, and thereby secure our liberties ; and 
let us choose other captains \\^lio may lead us back into 
Egypt, in case we do not succeed in reducing the Ca- 
naanites. 

On the whole, it appears that the Israelites were a 
people jealous of their newly acquired liberty, which 
jealousy was in itself no fault ; but that when they suf- 
fered it to be worked upon by artful men, pretending 
public good, with nothing really in view but private in- 
terest, they were led to oppose the establishment of the 
new constitution, whereby they brought upon them- 
selves much inconvenience and misfortune. It farther 
appears from the same inestimable histoiy, that when, 
after many ages, the constitution had become old and 
much abused, that an amendment of it was proposed 
the populace, as they had accused Moses of the ambi- 
tion of making himself a prince, and cried out, stone 
him, stone him ; so, excited by their high-priests and 
scribes, they exclaimed against the Messiah, that he 
aimed at becoming king of the Jews, and cried, cruci- 
fy him, crucify him. From all which we may gather, 
that popular opposition to a public measure is no pioof 
of its impropriety, even though the opposition be ex- 
cited and headed by men of distinction. 

* Numbers, cbap. xvi. 



328 ESSAYS. 

To conclude. I beg 1 may not be understood to in- 
fer, that our general convention was divinely inspired 
when it formed the new federal constitution, merely 
because that constitution has been unreasonably and 
vehemently opposed : yet, I must own, I have so much 
faith in the general government of the world by Provi- 
dence, that I can hardly conceive a transaclion of such 
momentous importance to the welfare of millions now 
existing, and to exist in the posterity of a great nation, 
should be suffered to pass without being in some de 
gree influenced, guided, and governed by that omnipo- 
tent, omnipresent and benificent Ruler, in whom all in- 
ferior spirits live, and move, and have their being. 

THE INTERNAL STATE OF AMERICA. 

Being a true Descrifition of the Interest and Policy of 

that vast Continent, 

V 

THERE is a tradition, that, in the planting of New- 
England, the first settlers met with many difficulties 
an4 hardships ; as is generally the case when a civiliz- 
ed people attempt establishing themselves in a wilder- 
ness country. Being f)iously disposed, they sought re- 
lief from heaven, by laying their wants and distresses 
before the Lord, in frequent set days of fasting and 
prayer. Constant meditation and discourse on these 
subjects kept their minds gloomy and discontented ; 
and like the children of Israel, there were many dis- 
posed to return to that Egypt which persecution had 
induced them to abandon. At length, when it was pro- 
posed in the assembly to proclaim anotJ|pr fast, a far- 
mer of plain %ense rose, and remarked, that the incon- 
veniences they suffered, and concerning which they 
had so often wearied heaven with their complaints, 
were not so great as they might have expected, and 
were diminishing every day as the colony strengthen- 
ed ; that the earth began to reward their labour, and 
to furnish liberally for their subsistence ; that the seas 
and rivers were found full oTfish, the air sweet, and the 



ESSAYS, 229 

climate healthy ; and, above all, that they were there 
in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and religious; he 
therefore thought, that reflecting and conversing on 
these subjects v/ould be more comfortable, as tending 
more to make them contented with their situation: 
and that it would be more becoming the gratitude they 
owed to the Divine Being, if, instead of a fast, they 
should proclaim a thanksgiving. His advice was tak- 
en, and from that day to this, they have, in every year, 
observed circumstances of public felicity sufficient to 
furnish employment for a thanksgiving day, which is 
therefore constantly ordered and religiously observed. 

I see in the public papers of different states, frequent 
complaints of //an/ times^ deadness of trade, scarcity of 
rnonei/, Sec. &c. It is not my intention to assert or 
mantain that these complaints are entirely without foun- 
dation. There can be no country or nation existing, 
in which there will not be some people so circum- 
stanced as to find it hard to gain a livelihood ; people 
who are not in the way of any profitable trade, and with 
whom money is scarce, because they have nothing to 
give in exchange for it ; and it is ahvays in the power 
of a small number to make a great clamour. But let 
us take a cool view of the gerjeral state of our affairs, 
and perhaps the prospect will appear less gloomy than 
has been imagined. 

The great business of the continent is agriculture. 
For one artisan, or Nmerchant, I suppose, we have at 
least one hundred farmers, and by far the greatest part 
cultivators of their own fertile lands, from whence ma- 
ny of them draw not only food necessary for their sub- 
sistence, but the materials of their clothing, so as to 
need very few foreign supplies ; while they have a sur- 
plus of productions to dispose of, whereby wealth is 
gradually accumulated. Such has been the goodness 
of Divine Providence to these regions, and so favoura- 
ble the climate, that, since the three or four years of 
hardship in the first settlement of our fathers here, a fa- 
mine or scarcity has never been heard amongst us ; on 

U 



!l»jO- . ESSAYS. 

the contrary, though some years may have been more 
and others less plentiful, there has always been provi- 
sion enough for ourselves, and a quantity to spare for 
exportation. And although the crops of last year were 
generally good, never was the farmer better paid for 
the part he can spare commerce, as the published price 
currents abundantly testify. The lands he possesses 
are also continually rising in value with the increase of 
population ; and on the whole, he is enabled to give 
such good wages to those who work for him, that all 
who are acquainted with the old world, must agree, 
ihat in no part of it are the labouring poor so generally 
well fed, well clothed, well lodged, and well paid, as 
in the United States of America. 

If we enter the cities, we find that, since the revolu- 
tion, the owners of houses and lots of ground have had 
their interest vastly augmented in value ; rents have 
risen to an astonishing height, and thence encourage- 
ment to increase building, which gives employment to 
an abundance of workmen, as does also the increased 
luxury and splendour of the living of the inhabitants thus 
made richer. These workmen all demand and obtain 
much higher wages than any other part of the world 
could afford them, and are paid in ready money. This 
rank of people therefore do not^ or ought not to com- 
plain of hard times ^ and they make a very considerable 
part of the city inhabitants. 

At the distance I live from our American fisheries, 
I cannot speak of them with any degree of certainty ; 
but I have not heard that the valuable race of men em- 
ployed in them is worse paid, or thattiiey meet with 
less success than before the revolution. The whalemen 
indeed have been deprived of one market for their oil ; 
but another, 1 hear, is opening for thenl, which it is hop- 
ed may be equally advantageous ; and the demand is 
constantly increasing for their sperniaceti candles, 
which there bear a much higher price than formerly. 

There remain the merchants and shop-keepers.— 
Of these, though they make but a small part of the 



ESSAYS. 231 

vhole nation, the number is considerable, too great in- 
deed for the business they are employed in ; for the 
consumption of goods in every country has its limits ; ^ 
the faculties of the p jople, that is, their ability to buy 
and pay, is equal only to a certain quantity of merchan- 
dize. If merchants calculate amiss on this proportion, 
and import too much, they will of course find the sale 
dull for the overplus, and some of them will say that 
trade languishes. They should, and doubtless will 
grow v/iser by experience, and import less. If too 
many artificers in town, and farmers from the country, 
flattering themselves with the idea of leading easier 
lives, turn shop-keepers, the whole natural quantity of 
that business divided among them all may afford toa 
small a share for each, and occasion complaints that 
trading is dead ; these may also suppose that it is ow- 
ing to scarcity of money, while in fact, it is not so much 
from the fewness of buyers, as from the excessive num- 
ber of sellers, that the mischief arises ; and, if every 
shop-keeping farmer and mechanic would return to t' e 
use of his plough and working tools, there w^ould re- 
main of widows, and other women, shop-keepers suffix 
cient for the business, v/hlch might then afford them a 
comfortable maintenance. 

Whoever has travelled through the various parts of 
Europe, and observed how small is the proportion of 
people in affiUence or easy circumstances there, com- 
pared with those in poverty and misery ; the few rich 
and haughty landlords, the multitude of poor, abject 
rack-rented, tythe-paying tenants, and half-paid, and 
half-starved, ragged labourers ; and views Iiere the hap- 
py mediocrity that so generally prevails throughout 
these states, v/here the cultivator w*orks for himself, and 
supports his family in decent plenty ; will, methiiiks, 
see abundant reason to bless Divine Providence for the 
evident and great difference in our favour, and be con- 
vinced that no nation known to us enjoys a greater shar*?: 
of human felicitv, 



^J^ ESSA\3S; 

It is true, that in some of the states there are par- 
ties and discords ; but let us look back, and ask if wc 
were ever without them ? Such will exist wherever 
there is liberty ; and perpaps they help to preserve it. 
By the collision of different sentiments, sparks of truth 
are struck out, and political light is obtained. The dif- 
ferent factions, which at present divide us, aim all at 
the public good; the differences are only about the vari- 
ous modes of promoting it. Things, actions, measures, 
.and objects of all kinds, present themselves to the 
minds of men in such a variety of lights, that it is not 
possible we should all think alike at the same time on 
every subject, when hardly the same man retains at all 
times the same ideas of it. Parties are therefore the 
common lot of humanity ; and ours are by no means 
more mischievous or less beneficial than those of other 
countries, nations, and ages, enjoying in the same de» 
gree the great blessing of political liberty. 

Some indeed among us are not so much grieved for 
the present state of our affairs, as apprehensive for the 
future. The growth of luxury alarms them, and they 
think we are from that alone in the high road to ruin. 
They observe, that no revenue is sufficient without 
osconomy, and that the most plentiful income of a whole 
people from the natural productions of their country 
may be dissipated in vain and needless expences, and 
poverty be introduced in the place of affluence. — This 
may be possible. It however rarely happens: for there 
seems to be in every nation a greater proportion of in- 
dustry and frugality, which tend to enrich, than of idle- 
pess and prodigality, which occasion poverty ; so that 
upon the whole there is continual accumulation. Re- 
flect that Spain, paul, Germany, and Britain were in 
the time of the Romans, inhabited by people little 
richer than our savages, and consider the wealth they 
at present possess, in numerous well built cities, im- 
proved farms, rich moveables, magazines stocked with 
valuable manufactures, to say nothing of plate, jewels, 
and coined m^uey ; ^nd ail this, notwithstanding thpir 



ESSAYS. 



>to<-/^ 



bad, wasteful, plundering, governnrients, ^id their mad, 
destructive wars ; and yet luxury and extravagant liv- 
ing has never suffered much restraint on those coun- 
tries. Then consider the great proportion of industri- 
ous frugal farmers inhabiting the interior parts of these 
American states, and of whom the body of our nation 
consists, and judge whether it is possible that the luxu- 
1*7 of our sea-ports can be sufficient to ruin such a coun- 
try. — If the importation of foreign luxuries could ruin 
a people, we should probably have been ruined long 
ago ; for the British nation claimed a right, and prac- 
tised it, of importing among us, not only the superflui- 
ties of their own production, but those of every nation 
under heaven ; we bought and consumed them, and 
yet we flourished and grew rich. At present our in- 
dependent governments may do what v/e could not then 
do, discourage by heavy duties, or prevent by heavy 
prohibitions, such importations, and thereby grow rich- 
er ; if, indeed which may admit of dispute, the desire 
of adorning ourselves with fine clothes, possessing fine 
furniture, with elegant houses, 8cc. is not, by strongly 
inciting to labour and industry, the occasion of produc- 
ing a greater value than is consumed in the gratifica- 
tion of that desire. 

The agriculture and fisheries of the United States 
are the great sources of our increasing wealth. He 
that puts a seed into the earth is recompensed, perhaps 
by receiving forty out of it ; and he who draws a fish 
out of our water, draws up a piece of silver. 

Let us (and there is no doubt but we shall) be atten- 
tive to these, and then the power of rivals, with all 
their restraining and prohibiting acts, cannot much 
hurt us. We are sons of the earth and seas, and, like 
Antaeus in the fable, if in wrestling with a Hercules we 
now and then receive a fall, the touch of our parents 
will communicate to us fresh strength and vigour \jo 
penew the contest, 



U 2 



234 ESSAYS. 

INFORMATION TO THOSE WHO WOULD REMOVE 

TO AMERICA. 

MANY persons in Europe having, directly, or by- 
letters expressed to the writer of this, who is well ac- 
quainted \vith North America, their desire of trans- 
porting and establishing themselves in that country ; 
but who appear to him to have formed, through igno- 
rance, mistaken ideas and expectations of what is to be 
obtained there ; he thinks it may be useful, and pre- 
vent inconvenient, expensive and fruitless removals 
and voyages of improper persons, if he gives some 
clearer and truer notions of that part of the world, than 
have hitherto prevailed. 

He fmds it imagined by numbers, that the inhabi- 
tants of North America are rich, capable of rewarding, 
and disposed to reward, all sorts of ingenuity ; that 
they are at the same time ignorant of all the sciences, 
and consequently that strangers, possessing talents in 
the belles-letters, line arts, Sec. must be highly esteem- 
ed, and so well paid as to become easily rich them- 
selves ; that there are also abundance of profitable offi- 
ces to be disposed of, which the natives are not quali- 
iied to fill; and that having few persons of family 
among them, strangers of birth must be greatly res- 
pected, and of course easily obtain the besc of those offi- 
ces, which will make all their fortunes ; that the go- 
vernmcnt too, to encourage emigrations from Europe, 
not only pay the cxpence of their personal transporta- 
tion, but give lands gratis to strangers, with negroes to 
work for them, utensils of husbandry, and stock of cat- 
tle. These are all wild imaginations ; and those who 
^o to America with expectations founded upon them, 
Avill siirely find themselves disappointed. 

The truth is, that though there are in that country 
few people so miserable as the poor of Europe, there 
are also few that in Europe would be called rich ; it is 
3'ather a general, happy mediocrity that prevails. There 
itre few great proprietors of the soil, and few tenants ; 
most people cultivate their cwn lands, or follow some 



ESSAYS. 235 

handicraft or merchandize ; very few i^ich enough to 
live idly upon their rents or incomes, or to pay the high 
prices given in Europe for painting, statues, artitec- 
ture, and the other works of art that are more curious 
than useful. Hence the natural geniuses that have 
arisen in America, with such talents have uniformly 
quitted that country for Europe, where they can be 
more suitably rewarded. It is true that letters and 
mathematical knowledge are in esteem there, but they 
are at the same time more common than is apprehend- 
ed ; there being already existing nine colleges, or uni- 
versities, viz. four in New-England, and one in each 
of the provinces of New-York, New-Jersey, Pennsyl- 
vania, Maryland, and Virginia, all furnished with learn- 
ed professors ; besides a number of smaller academies ; 
these educate many of their youth in the languages, 
and those sciences that qualify men for the professions 
of divinity, law, or physic. Strangers indeed are by 
no means excluded from exercising those professions; 
and the quick increase of inhabitants every where gives 
them a chance of employ, which they have in common 
with the natives. — Of civil officers or employments^ 
there are few ; no superfluous ones as in Europe ; and 
it is a rule established in some of the states, that no of- 
fice should be so profitable as to make it desirable.— 
The 36th article of the constitution of Pennsylvania 
runs expressly in these words : " As every freeman, 
preserves his independence, Cif he has not a sufficient 
estate) ought to have some profession, calling, trade, or 
farm, whereby he may honestly subsist, there can be 
no necessity for, nor use in establishing offices of pro- 
fit ; the usual effects of which are dependence and ser- 
vility, unbecoming freemen, in the possessors and ex« 
pectants ; faction, contention, corruption, and disorder 
among the people. Wherefore, whenever an office, 
through increase of fees or otherwise, becomes so pro- 
fitable as to occasion many to apply for it, the profits^ 
ought to be lessened by the legislature.'* 



256 ESSAYS. 

These ideas prevailing more or less in all the United 
States, it cannot be worth any man's while who has a 
means of living at home, to expatiate himself in hopes 
of obtaining a profitable civil office in America ; and as 
lo military offices, they are at an end with the war, the 
armies being disbanded. Much less is it advisable for 
a person to go thither, who has no other quality to re- 
commend him but his birth. In Europe, it has indeed 
its value ; but it is a commodity that cannot be carried 
to a worse market than to that of America, where peo- 
ple do not enquire concerning a stranger. What is he ? 
but What can he do ? If he has any useful art, he is 
welcome ; and if he exercises it, and behaves well, he 
vnW be respected by all that know him ; but a mei'e 
man of quality, who on that account wants to live upon 
the public by some offixe or salary, will be despised 
and disregarded. The husbandman is an honor there, 
and even the mechanic, because their employments 
are useful. The people have a saying, that God Al- 
mighty is himself a mechanic, the greatest in the uni- 
verse ; and he is respected and admired more for the 
variety, ingenuity, and utility of his handy vvorks, than 
for the antiquity of his family. They are pleased with 
the observation of a negro, and frequently mention it, 
that Boccarorra (meaning the white man) make de 
black itian workee, make de horse workee, make de 
ox workee, make ebery dng workee ; only de hog. — 
He de hog, no workee ; he eat, he drink, he walk about, 
he go to sleep when he please, he libb like a gentle- 
man. According to these opinions of the Americans, 
one of them would think himself more obliged to a ge- 
nealogist, who could prove for him that his ancestors 
and relations for ten generations had been ploughmen, 
ismiths, carpenters, turners, weavers, tanners, or even 
shoemakers, and consequently that they M'ere useful 
members of society ; than if he could only prove that 
they were gentlemen doing nothing of value but living 
idly on the labour of cithers, mere feuges cojisumerp 



ESSAYS. 237 

nati^ and othervrise good for nothings till by their death 
their estates, like the carcase, of the negro's gentle- 
man-hog, come to be cut up,. 

With regard to encouragement for strangers from 
government, they are really only what are dirived from 
good laws and liberty. Strangers are welcome because 
there is room enough for them ail, and therefore the 
old inhabitants are not jealous of them; the laws protect 
them sufficiently, so that they have no need of the pa- 
tronage of great men ; and every one will enjoy secure- 
ly the profits of his industry. But if he does not bring 
a fortune with him, he must work and be industrious to 
live. One or tsvo years residence give him all the 
rights of a citizen ; but the government does not at 
present, whatever it may have done in former times, 
hire people to become settlers, by paying their passa- 
ges, giving land, negroes, utensils, stock, or any other 
kind of emolument whatsoever. In short, America is 
the land of labour, and by no means what the English, 
call Lubber land^ and the French Pays da Cocagne^ 
where the streets are said to be paved v/ith half- peck 
loaves, the houses tiled with pancakes, and where the 
fowls fly about ready roasted, crying, Come cat me ! 

Who then are the kind of persons to whom an emi* 
gration to America would be advantageous ? And what 
are the advantages they may reasonably expect ? 

Land being cheap in that country, from the vast for- 
ests still void of inhabitants, and not likely to be inhab- 
ited in an age to come, insomuch that the property of 
an hundred acres of fertile soil full of Avood may be ob- 
tained near the frontiers, in many places, for eight or 
ten guineas, hearty young labouring men, who under- 
stand the husbandry of corn and cattle, which is nearly 
the same in that country as in Europe, may easily es- 
tablish themselves there. A little money saved of the 
good wages they receive there while they work fov 
others, enables them to buy the land and begin their 

* born 

Merely to eat up the corn.-pWAXT?. 



235 * ESSAtS^. 

plantation, in which they are assisted by the good will 
of their neighbours, and some credit. Multitudes oi' 
poor people from England, Irelundy Scotland, and Ger- 
many, have by this means in a few years become weal- 
thy farmers, who in their own countries, where all the 
lands are fully occupied and the wages of labour low, 
could never have emerged from the mean condition 
"wherein they were born. 

From the salubrity of the air, the healthiness of the 
climate, the plenty of good provisions, and the encour^ 
agement to early marriages, by the certainty of subsis- 
tence in cultivating the earth, the increase of inhabit- 
ants by natural generation is very rapid in America, and 
becomes still more so by the accession of strangers ; 
ker'ce there is a continual deniancL for more artisans of 
all the necessary and useful kinds, to supply those cul- 
tivators of the earth with houses, and with furniture, 
and utensils of the grosser sort, which cannot so well 
be brought from Europe. Tolerable good w^orkmen 
in any of those mechanic arts, arc sure to find employ, 
and to be well paid for their vvork, there being no res- 
traints preventing strangers from exercising any art 
they understand, nor any permission necessary. If 
they are poor, they begin first as servants or journey- 
men ; and if they ctre sober, industrious, and frugal^ 
they soon become masters, establish themselves in bu- 
siness, marry, raise families, and become respectable 
citizens. 

Also, persons of moderate fortunes and capitals, who 
having a number of children to provide for, are desir- 
ous of bringing them up to industry, and to secure es- 
tates for their posterity, have opportunities of doing it 
in America, which Europe does not afford. There 
they may be taught and practise profitable mechanic 
arts, without incurring disgrace on that account ; but 
on the contrary acquiring respect by such abilities. — 
There small capitals laid out in lands, which daily be- 
come more valuable by the increase of people, afford a 
solid prospect of ample fortunes thereafter for ti>,pse 



-ESSAYS. . >239 

-ehiidren. The writer of this has known several insU^n- 
ces of large tracts of land, bought on what was then the 
frontier of Pennsylvania, for ten pounds per hundred 
acres, which, after twenty years, when the settlement 
had been extended far beyond them, sold readily, with- 
out any improvement made upon them, for three pounds 
per acre. The acre in America, is the same with the 
English acre, or the acre of Normandy. 

Those who desire to understand the state of govern- 
ment in America, would do well to read the constitu- 
tions of the several states, and the articles of confedera- 
tion that bind the whole together for general purposes, 
under the direction of one assembly called the Con- 
gress. These constitutions have been printed, by or- 
der of Congress, in America ; two editions of them 
have also been printed in London ; and a good transla- 
tion of them in French, has lately been published at 
Paris. 

Several of the princes of Europe having of late, from 
an opinion of advantage to arise by producing all com- 
modities and manufactures within their own dominions, 
so as to diminish or render useless their importations, 
have endeavoured to entice workmen from other coun- 
tries, by high salaries, privileges, &c. Many persons 
pretending to be skilled in various great manufactures, 
imagining that America must be in want of them, and 
that the Congress would probably be disposed to imi- 
tate the princes above mentioned, having proposed to 
go over, on condition of having their passages paid, 
land given, salaries appointed, exclusive privileges for 
terms of years, Sec. Such persons, on reading the ar- 
ticles of confederation, will find that the Congress have 
no power committed to them, or money put into their 
hands for such purposes ; and that if any such encourage- 
ment, is given, it must be by the government of some 
particular state. This, however, has rarely been done 
in America ; and when it has been done, it has rarely 
succeeded, so as to escablish a manufacture, which the 
countiy was not yet so ripe for as to encourage priv^^tQ 



240 ESSAYS. 

persons to set it up ; labour being generally too dear 
there, and hands difficult to be kept together, every one 
desiring to be a master, and the cheapness of land in- 
clining many to leave trade for agriculture. Some in- 
deed have met with success, and are carried on to ad- 
vantage : but they are generally such as require only 
a few hands, or v/herein great part of the work is per- 
formed by machines. Goods that are bulky, and of so 
small value as not well to bear the expence of freight, 
may often be made cheaper in the country than they 
can be imported ; and the manufacture of such goods 
will be profitable wherever there is a sufficient demands 
The farmers in America produce indeed a good deal 
of wool and flax ; and none is exported, it is all work- 
ed up ; but it is in the way of domestic manufacture, 
for the use of the family. The buying up quantities 
of wool and flax, with the design to employ spinners, 
weavers. Sec. and form great establishments, produc- 
ing quantities of linen and woolen goods for sale, has 
been several times attempted in different provinces ; 
but those projects have generally failed, goods of equal 
Value being imported cheaper. And when the govern- 
ments have been solicited to support such schemes by 
encouragements, in money, or by imposing duties on 
importation of such goods, it has been generally refus- 
ed, on this principle, that if the country is ripe for the 
manufacture, it may be carried on by private persons 
to advantage *, and if not, it is a folly to think of forcing 
nature. G reat establishments of manufacture, require 
greater number of poor to do the work for small wages ; 
tbose poor are to be found in Europe, but will not be 
found in America, till tlie lands are all taken up and 
cultivated, and the excess of people who cannot get 
lund, want employment. The manufacture of silk, 
they suy. is as natural in France, as that of cloth in Eng- 
land, because each country produces in plenty the first 
material : but if England will have a manufacture of 
sUk as well as that of cloth, and France of cloth as well 
as that of silk; these unnatural operations must be ,sup- 



ESSAYS. 241 

.ported by mutual prohibitions, or high'duties on the 
importation of each other's goods: by which means 
the v/orkmen arc enabled to tax the home consumer 
by greater prices, while the higher wages they receive 
makes them neither happier nor richer, since they on- 
ly drink more and work less. Therefore the govern- 
ment of America do nothing to encourage such pro- 
jects. The people by this means, are not imposed 
©n, either by the merchant ro mechanic ; if the mer- 
chant demands too much profit on imported shoes 
they buy of the shoemaker ; and if he asks too high a 
price, they take them of the merchant ; thus the two 
professions are checks on each other. The shoema* 
ker, however, has, on the whole a considerable profit 
upon his labour in America, beyond what he had in 
Europe, as he can add to his price a sum nearly equal 
to all the cxpences of freight and commission, risque 
or insurance, &c. necessarily charged by the merchant.- 
And it is the same with every other mechanic art. 
Hence it is that artisans generally live better and more 
easily in America than in Europe ; and such as are good 
economists, make a comfortable provision for age, and 
for their children. Such may, therefore remove with 
advantage to America. 

In the old long-settled countries of Europe, all arts, 
trades, professions, farms, &c. are so full, that it is dif- 
ficult for a poor man who has children, to place them 
where they may gain, or learn to gain a decent liveli- 
hood. The artisans, who fear creating future rivals in 
business, refuse to take apprentices, but upon condi-. 
tions of money, maintenance, or the like, which the pa- 
rents are unable to comply with. Here the youths are 
dragged up in ig^norance of every gainful art, and oblig- 
ed to become soldiers, or servants, or thieves, for a 
subsistence. In America, the rapid increase of inhab- 
itants takes away that fear of rivalship, and artisans will- 
ingly receive apprentices from the hope of profit by 
their labour, during the remainder of the time stipulat- 
ed, after they shall be instructed. Hence it is easy for 






242' ESSAYS. 

poor families to get their children instructed ; for the 
artisans are so desirous of apprentices, that many of 
them will even give money to the parents, to have boys 
from ten to fifteen years of age bound apprentices to 
them, till the age of twenty-one ; and many poor pa- 
rents have, by that means, on their arrival in the coun- 
t-ry, raised money enough to buy land sufficient to es- 
tablish themselves, and to subsist the rest of their fami- 
ly by agriculture. These contracts for apprentices are 
made before a magistrate, who regulates the agreement 
according to reason and justice ; and having in view 
the formation of a future useful citizen, obliges the 
master to engage by a written indenture, not only that, 
during the time of service stipulated, the apprentice 
shall be duly provided with meat, drink, apparel, wash- 
ing, and lodging, and at its expiration with a complete 
new suit of clothes, but also that he shall be taught to 
read, write, and cast accounts ; and that he shall be well 
instructed in the art of profession of his master, or 
some other, by which he may afterwards gain a liveli- 
hood, and be able in his turn to raise a family. A copy 
of this indenture is given to the apprentice or his 
friends, and the magistrate keeps a record of it, to 
which recourse may be had, in case of failure by the 
master in any point of performance. This desire among 
the masters to have more hands employed in working 
for them, induces them to pay the passages of young 
personsj of both sexes, who, on their arrival, agree to 
serve them one, two, three, or four years : those who 
have already learned a trade, agreeing for a shorter 
term, in proportion to their skill, and the consequent 
immediate value of their services ; and those who have 
none, agreeing for a longer term, in consideration of 
being taught an art their poverty would not permit 
them to acquire in their own country. 

The almost general mediocrity of fortune that pre- 
vails in America, obliging its people to follow some 
business, for subsistence, those vices that arise usually 
frongi idleness, are in a great measure prevented. In* 



essays: m4:^ 



dustry and constant employment are great preservatives 
of the morals and virtue of a nation. Hence bad ex-. 
amples to youth are more rare in America, which must 
be a comfortable consideration to parents. To this may 
be truly added, that serious religion, under its various 
denominations, is not only tolerated, but respected and 
practised. Atheism is unknown there ; infidelity rare 
and secret ; so that persons may live to a great age in 
that country without having their piety shocked by 
meeting with an atheist or an inftdel. And the Divine 
Being seems to have manifested his approbation of the 
mutual forbearance and kindness with which the dif- 
ferent sects treat each other, by the renvdrkable pros- 
perity with which he has been pleased to favour the 
whole country. 



rmAL SPEECH OF Dr. FR\NKLIX IN THE L\TE 
FEDERAL CONVENTION.* 

MR. PRESIDENT, 

1 CONFESS that I do not entirely approve of this 
constitution at present: but, Sir, I am not sure I shall 
never approve it ; for having lived long, I have expe- 
rienced many instances of being obliged by better in- 
formation, or further consideration, to change opinions, 
even on important subjects, which 1 once thouo;ht right, 
but found to be otherwise. It is, therefore, that .the 
Older I grow, the more apt am I to doubt my ov/n judg- 
ment, and pay more respect to the judgment of others. 
Most men, indeed, as well as most sects of religion, 
think themselves in possession of all truth, and that 
whenever others differ from them, it is so far error. — 
Steel, a protestant, in a dedication, tells the Pope, that> 
the only difference between our two churches, in their 

* Our reasons for ascrlbin|^ this speech to Dr. Franklin^ 
are its internal evidence, and its having appeared with his 
name, during his lifetime, uncontradict'^d, in an i^mericac 
perio^lirril publication. 



:j44. essays. 

opinions of the certainty of their doctrines, is^ the Ro- 
^iian churcli is infallible, and the church of England 
never in the wrong." But, though many private pev- 
sons think almost as highly of their own infallibility as 
of that of their own sect, few expi^ss it so naturally as 
a certain French lady, who, in a little dispute with her 
sister, said, I dont know how it happens, sister, but I 
meet with nobody but myself that is always in the right. 
// ti^y a que moi qui a toujoura raiso?:, ( In these senti- 
ments, Sir, I agree to this constitution, with all its faults, 
if they are such ; because I think a general government 
necessary for us, and there is no form of government, 
but what may be a blessing, if well administered, and I 
believe farther, that this is likely to be well administer- 
ed for a course of years, and can only end in despotism, 
as other forms have done before it, when the people 
shall become so corrupted as to need despotic govern- 
ment, being incapable of any other. ^I doubt too,*whe- 
ther any other convention we can obtain, may be able 
to make a better constitution. For when you assemble 
a number of men, to have the advantage of their joint 
wisd©m, you assemble with those men, all their preju- 
dices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local 
interests, and their selfish views. From such an as- 
sembly can a perfect production be expected ? It there- 
fore astonlirhes me, Sir, to find this system approach- 
ing ho near to perfection as it does ; and I think it will 
astonish our enemies, who are waitiiig with confidence, 
to hear that our councils are confounded, like those of 
phe builders of Babylon, and that our states are on the 
point of separation, only to meet hereafter for the pur- 
pose of cutting each other's throats. 

Thus I consent, Sir, to this constitution because I 
expect no better, and because I am not sure that this 
is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, 
I sacrifice to the public good. I have never whispered 
a syllabic of them abroad. Within these walls they 
were born ; and here they shall die. If every one of us,. 
in returning to our constituents, were to report the ob* 



ESSAYS. 24^, 

j'ections he has had to it, and endeavour, to gain parti- 
sans in support of them, we might prevent its being 
generally received and thereby lose all the salutary ef- 
fects and great advantages resulting naturally in our 
favour among foreign nations, as well as among our- 
selves, from our real or apparent unanimity. Much, 
of the strength or efficiency of any government, in pro* 
curing and securing happiness to the people, depend 
on opinion; on the general opinion of the goodness of 
that government, as well as of the wisdom and integri- 
ty of its governors* 

I hope, therefore, that for our own sakes as a part of 
the people, and for tlie sake of our posterity we shall 
act heartily and unanimously in recommending this 
constitution, wherever our influence may extend, and 
turn our future thoughts and endeavours to the means 
of having it well administered. 

On the whole, Sir, I cannot help expressing a wish, 
that every member of the convention, w^ho may still 
have objections, would with me on this occasion, doubt 
a little of his own infallibility, and to make manifest our 
unanimity, put his name to this instrument. 

[The motion was then made for adding the last for- 
mula, viz. 

Done in convention by the unanimous consent, Scc>:. 
which was agreed to, and added accordingly.] 



SKETCH OF AN EXGLISH SCHOOL. 

For the Consideration of the Trustees of the Philade^" 

phia Academy, 

IT is expected that every scholar to be admitted into 
this school, be at least able to pronounce and divide the 
syllables in reading, and to write a legible hand. None 
to be received that ^re lUider 3?ear3^ 

of age. : 



FIRST^ OR LOWEST CLASS. 

Let the first class learn the English Grammar rules>= 
and at the same time let particular care be taken to im- 
prove them in orthography. Perhaps the latter is best 
done by pairing the scholars ; two of those nearest 
equal in their spelling to be put together. Let these 
strive for victory ; each propounding ten words every 
day to the other to be spelled. He that spells truly most 
of the other's words, is victor for that day ; he that is 
victor most days in a month, to obtain a prize, a pretty 
neat book of some kind, viseful in their future studies. 
This method fixes the attention of children extremely 
to the orthography of w^ords, and makes them good 
spellers very early. It is a shame for a man to be so 
ignorant of this little art in his own language, as to be- 
perpetually confounding words of like sound and dif- 
ferent significations ; the consciousness of which de« 
feet makes some men, otherv/ise of good learning and 
understanding, averse to writing even a common letter. 

Let the pieces read by the scholars in this class be 
short ; such as Coxal's fables, and little stories. In 
giving the lesson, let it be read to them ; let the mean- 
ing of the most difiicult words in it be explained to 
tliem ; and let them con over by themselves before they 
are called to read to the master or usher ; who is to take 
particular care they do not read too fast, and that they 
duly observe the stops and pauses. A vocabulary of 
the most useful and difRcult words might be formed 
for their use, with explanations ; and they might daily 
get a few of these words and explanations by heart, 
which would a little exercise their menriories ; or at 
Seast they might right a number of them in a small book 
for the purpose, which would help to fix the meaning 
of those words in their minds, and at the same time fur- 
nish every one with a little dictionary for his future use- 

THE SECOND CLASS. 

To be tanght reading with attention, and with pro- 
per modulation of the voice j according to the senti^^ 
inent and subject. 



ESSAYS. 247 

Some short pieces, not exceeding the length of a . 
Spectator, to be given this class for lessons (and some 
of the easier Spectators would be very suitable for the 
purpose.) These lessons might be given every night 
as tasks ; the scholars to study them against the morn- 
ing. Let it then be required of them to give an ac- 
count, first of the parts of speech and construction of 
one or two sentences. This will oblige them to recur 
frequently to their grammar, and fix its principal rules 
in their memory. Next, of the intention of the writer, 
or the scope of the piece, the meaning of each sen- 
tence, and of every uncommon word. This would 
early acquaint them with the meaning and force of 
words, and give them that most necessary habit, of 
reading with attention. 

The master then to read the piece with the propel* 
modulations of voice, due emphasis, and suitable action^ 
where action is required ; and put the youth on imita- 
ting his manner. 

Where the author has used an expression not the 
best, let it be pointed out ; and let his beauties be par- 
ticularly marked to the youth. 

Let the lessons for reading be varied, that the youth 
may be made acquainted with good styles of all kinds 
in prose and yerse, and the proper manner of reading 
each kind — sonnetimes a well-told story, a piece of a 
sermon, a general's speech to his soldiers, a speech in 
a tragedy, some part of a comedy, an ode, a satire, a 
letter, blank verse, Hudibrastic, heroic, 8cc. But let 
such lessons be chosen for reading, as contain some 
useful instruction, whereby the understanding or mor- 
als of the youth may at the same time be improved. 

It is required that they should first study and under- 
stand the lessons, before they are put upon reading 
them properly ; to which end each boy should have an 
English dictionary, to help him over difficulties.— 
When our boys read English to us, we are apt to ima- 
gine they understand what they read, because we do, 
and because it is their mother tongue. But they often 



243 ESSAYS. 

read as parrots speak, knowing little or nothing of the 
meaning. And it is impossible a reader should give 
the due modulation to his voice, and pronounce pro- 
perly, unless his understanding, goes before his tongucj 
and makes him master of the sentiment. Accustom- 
ing boys to read aloud what they do not first understand, 
is the cause of those even set tones so common among 
readers, which, when they have once got a habit of 
using, they find so difficult to correct; by which means, 
am.ong fifty readers, w^e scarcely find a good one. For 
want of good reading pieces published with a view tc^ 
influence the minds of men, for their own or the pub- 
lic benefit, lose half their force. Were there but one 
good reader in a neighbourhood, a public orator might 
be heard throughout a nation with the same advantages, 
and have the same effect upon his audience, as if they 
stood v/ithin the reach of his voice. 

THE THIRD CLASS. 

To be taught speaking properly and gracefully; 
which. is near a-kin to good reading, and naturally fol- 
lows it in the studies of youth. Let the scholars of thia 
class begin with learning the elements of rhetoric from, 
some short system^ so as to be able to give an account 
of the most useful tropes and figures. Let all their 
bad habits of speaking, all offences against good gram- 
mar, all corrupt or foreign accents, and all improper 
phrases, be pointed out to them. Short speeches from 
the Roman or other history, or from the parliamentaryr 
debates, might be got by heart, and delivered with the 
proper action, Sec. Speeches and scenes in our best 
tragedies and comedies (avoiding things that could in- 
jure the morals of youth) might likewise be got by rote, 
and the boys exercised in delivering or acting them ; 
great care being taken to form their maimer after the 
truest models 

For this farther improvement, and a little to vaxy 
their studies, let them now begin to read history, after 
feftving got by heart a short table of tlie grincipali 



ESSAYS. 249 

epochas in Chronology. They may begin with Rollings 
ancient and Roman histories, and proceed at proper 
hours, as they go through the subsequent classes, with 
the best histories of our own nation and colonies. Let 
emulation be excited among the boys, by giving week- 
,]y, little prizes, or other small encouragements, to those 
who are able to give the best account of what they have 
read, as to times, places, names of persons. Sec. This 
will make them read with attention, and imprint the 
history well in their memories. In remarking on the 
history, the master will have fine opportunities of in- 
stilling instructions of various kinds, and improving 
the morals, as well as the understandings of youth. 

The natural and mechanic history, contained in the 
S/i€Ctacle de la Nature^ might also be began in this class, 
and continued through the subsequent classes by other 
books of the same kind ; for, next to the knowledge 
of duty, this kind of knowledge is certainly the most 
useful, as well as the most entertaining. The merchant 
may thereby be enabled better to understand many com- 
jn^iOdities in trade ; the b^digr^^ttmftn to improve his 
business by new instruments, mixtures, and materials; 
and frequent hints are given for new manufactures, and 
new methods of improving land, that may be set on foot 
greatly to the advantage of the country. 

THE rOlJRTH CLASS. 

To be taught composition. Writing one*s own lan- 
guage well, is the next necessary accomplishment after 
good speaking. It is the writing master's business to 
take care that the boys make fair characters, and place 
them straight and even in the lines : but to form their 
style, and even to take care that the stops and capitals 
are properly disposed, is the part of an English master; 
The boys should be put on writing letters to each other 
on any common occurrences, and on various subjects^ 
imaginary business, &c. containing little stories, ac- 
counts of their late reading, what parts of authors please 
them, and why ; letters of congratulation, of compli- 



250' ESSAYS'. 

inent, of requests, of thanks, of recommendation, of 
admonition, of consolation, of expostulation, excuse, 
Sec. In these they should be taught to express them- 
selves clearly, concisely and naturally without affect- 
ed words or high flown i>lirases. All their letters to 
pass through the masters hand, who is to point out 
the faults, advise the corrections, and commend what 
he finds right. Some of the best letters published in 
pur own language, as Sir William Temple's, those of 
Pope and his friends, and some others, might be set 
before the youth as models, their beauties pointed out, 
:and explained by the master, the letters themselves 
transcribed by the scholar. 

Dr. Johnson's Ethices Elementa^ or First Principles 
of Morality, may now be read by the scholars, and ex- 
plained by the master to lay a solid foundation of virtue 
and piety in their minds. And as this class continues 
the reading of history, let them now, at proper hoursy 
receive some farther instructions of Chronology and ia 
that part of Geography (from the mathematical mas- 
ter) which is necessary to understand the maps and 
globes. They should also he acquainted with the mo- 
dern names of places they find mentioned in ancient 
"writers. Tne exercises of good reading, and proper 
speaking, still continued at suitable times. 

FIFTH CLASS. 

To improve the youth in composition, they may now^ 
besides continuing to write letters, begin to write little 
essays in prose, and sometimes in verse ; not to ,make 
them poets, but for this reason, that nothing, acquaints, 
a lad so speedily with variety of expression as the ne- 
cessity of finding such words and phrases as well suit 
the measure, sound and rhyme of verse, and at the iame 
time well express the sentiment. These essays should 
all pass under the master's eye, who will point o : their 
faults and put the writer on correcting therr "^Vhere 
the judgment is not ripe enouirh for form.-: .1 .jew es- 
says, let the sentiments of a Sj^^ectaior be given, aiid- 



BSSAYS. 351 

required to be clothed in the scholar's own words ; or 
the circumstances of some good story ; the scholar to 
find expression. Let them be put sometimes on abridg- 
ing a paragraph of a diffuse author : sometimes on di- 
lating or amplifying what is wrote more closely. And 
now let Dr. Johnson's Noetica^ or First Principles of 
Human Knowledge, containing a logic, or art of reason- 
ing, &c. be read by the youth, and the difficulties that 
may occur to them, be explained by the master. The 
reading of history, and the exercise of good reading 
and just speaking, still continued. 

SIXTH CLASS. 

In this class besides continuing the studies of the 
hall; preceding in history, rhetoric, logic, moral and 
natural philosophy, the best English authors may be 
read and explained ; as Tillotson, Milton, Locke, Ad- 
dison, Pope, Swift, the higher papers in the Spectator 
and Guardian, the best translations of Homer, Virgil 
and Horace, of Telemachus^ Travels of Cyrus, &c. 

Once a year let there be public exercises in the trus- 
tees and citizens presents Then let fine gilt books be 
given as prizes to such boys as distinguish themselves, 
and excel the others in any biiinch of learning, making 
three degrees of comparison : giving the best prize to 
him that performs best; a less valuable one to him that 
comes up next to the best ; and another to the third.-—* 
Commendations, encouragements, and advice to the 
rest; keeping up their hopes, that by industry, they 
may excel another time. The names of those that ob- 
tain the prize, to be yearly printed in a list. 

The hours of each day are to be divided and dispos- 
ed in such a manner as that some classes may be with 
the writing-master, improving their hands; others with 
the mathematical master, learning arithmetic, accounts, 
geography, use of the globes, drawing, mechanics, 
Sec. while the rest are in the English school, under the 
English master's care. 



^52 ESSAYS. 

Thus instructed, youth will come out of this school 
fitted for learning any business, calling, or profession, 
except such wherein languages are required: and 
though unacquainted with any ancient or foreign tongue, 
they will be masters of their own, which is of more im- 
mediate and general use, and withal will have attained 
many other -valuable accomplishments ; the time usual- 
ly spent in acquiring those languages, often without 
success, being here employed in laying such a founda- 
tion of knowledge and ability, as properly improved, 
may qualify them to pass through and execute the se- 
veral offices of civil life, with advantage and reputation 
to themselves and country. 



THE BUSY-BODY.— NO. I. 

From the ^?nerican Weekly Mercury.^ from Tuesday^ 
January 28, Yo Tuesday^ February 4, 1728-— 9, 

MR. ANDREW BRADFORD, 

I DESIGN this to acquaint you, that I, who have 
long been one of your courteous readers, have lately 
entertained some thought of setting up for an author 
myself: not out of the least vanity, I assure you, or de- 
sire of showing my parts, but purely for the good of my 
country. 

i have often observed with concern, that your Mer- 
cury is not always equally entertaining. The delay of 
ships expected in, and want of fresh advices from Eu- 
rope, makelt frequently very dull ; and I find the freez* 
ing of our river has the same effect on news as trade. 
With more concern have I continually observed the 
growing vices and follies of my country folk : and 
though reformation is properly the concern of every 
man, that is, every one ought to mend one ; yet it is 
too true in this case, that what is every body*s bu^ness 
is no body's business, and the business is done accord- 



ESSAYS. 253 

fngly. I therefore, upon mature deliberation think 
fit to take no body's business wholly into my own hands; 
and, out of zeal for the public good, design to erect my- 
self into a kind of censor morum; proposing, with your 
allowance, to make use of the Weekly Mercury^ as a 
vehicle, in wliich my remonstrances shall be conveyed 
to the world. 

I am sensible I have, in this particular, undertaken 
a very unthankful office, and expect little besides my 
labour for my pains. Nay, it is probable, I may dis- 
please a great number of your readers, who will not 
very well like to pay ten shillings a year for being told of 
their faults. But as most people delight in censure, 
when they themselves are not the objects of it, if any 
ixre offended at my pubiickly exposing their private 
vices, I promise they shall have the satisfaction, in a 
very little time, of seeing their good friends and neigh- 
bors in the same circumstances. 

However, let the fair sex be assured, that I shall al- 
ways treat them and their affairs with the utmost de- 
cency and respect. I intend now and then to dedicate 
a chapter wholly to their service ; and if my lectures 
any way contribute to the embellishment of their 
minds, and brightening of their understandings, with- 
out offending their modesty, I doubt not of having their 
favour and encouragement. 

It- is certain, that no country in the world produces 
naturally finer spirits than ours, men of genius for eve- 
ry kind of science, and capable of acquiring to perfec- 
tion every qualification, that is in esteem among man-, 
kind. But as few here have the advantage of good 
books, for want of which, good conversation is still 
more scarce, it would, doubtless, have been very ac- 
ceptable to your readers, if, instead of an old out-of-date 
article from Muscovy or Hungary, you had entertain- 
ed them with some well chosen extract from a good 
author. This I shall sometimes do, ^hen I happen to 
have nothing of my own to say that I think of more con- 
sequence. Sometimes, I propose to deliver lecture-^, 

w 



•2ii ESSAYS, 

of morality or philosophy, and (because I am malurally 
inclined to be meddling with things that do not con- 
tern me) perhaps I may sometimes talk politics. And 
"if I can by any means furnish out a weekly entertain* 
jnent for the public, that will give a rational diversioni 
tuid at the same time be instructive to the readers, I 
^hall think my leisure hours well employed : and if 
you publish this, I hereby invite all ingenious gentle- 
men and others (that approve of such an undertaking) 
to my assistance and correspondence. 

It is like, by this time, you have a curiosity to be ac« 
quainted with my name and cliaracter. As 1 do not 
aim at public praise, I design to remain concealed : and 
there are such numbers of our family and relations at 
this time in the country, that, though I have signed my 
name at full length, I am not under the least apprehen- 
sion of being distinguished and discovered by it. My 
character indeed, I would favour you with, but that I 
am cautious of praising myself, least I should be told 
my trumpeter's dead : and I cannot find in my hearty 
at present, to say any thing to my own disadvantage. 

It is very common with authors in their first per* 
formances, to talk to their readers thus, If this meets 
with a suitable reception, or, if this should meet with 
due encouragement, I shall hereafter publish, Sec— »^ 
This only manifests the value they put on their own 
•writings, since they think to frighten the public into 
their applause, by threatening, that unless you approve 
what they have already wrote, they intend never to write 
again ; when perhaps it may not be a pin matter, whe- 
ther they ever do or no. As I have not observed the 
critics to be more favourable on this account, I shall al- 
ways avoid saying any thing of the kind ; and conclude 
with telling you, that if you send me a bottle of ink and 
a quire of paper by the bearer, you may depend on hear- 
JPJ5 further from, 

Sir, 

Your most humble servant, 

THE BVSY-BODY- 



ESSAYS. 255 

THE BUSY-BODY.— No. IT. 

JFrom Tuesday 'i February 4, to Tuesday y February 1 2^ 

1728—9. 

All fools have still an itching" to deride. 

And fain would be upon the laughing side.— pope. 

Monsieur Rochefocault tells us somewhere in 
his memoirs, that the Prince of Conde delighted much 
in ridicule, and used frequently to shut himself up for 
half a day together, in his chamber, with a gentleman^ 
that was his fuvourite, purposely to divert himself with 
examining what was the foible, or ridiculous side of 
every noted person in the court. — That gentleman said 
afterwards in some company, that he thought nothing 
Was more ridiculous in any body, than this same hu- 
mour in the prince ; and I am somewhat inclined to be of 
this opinion. The general tendency there is among us 
to this embellishment (which I fear has too often gross- 
ly imposed upon my loving countrymen instead of wit) 
and the applause it meets with from a rising genera- 
tion, fill me with fearful apprehensions for the future 
reputation of my country : a young man of modesty 
(which is the most certain indication of large capaci- 
ties) is hereby discouraged from attemptin^^ to make 
any figure in life : his apprehensions oi being out-laugh- 
ed, will force him to continue in a restless obscurity, 
without having an opportunity of knowing his own merit 
himself, or discovering it to the world, rather than ven- 
ture to expose himself in a place, where a pun or a sneer 
shall pass for wit, noise for reason, and the strength of 
the argument be judged by that of the lungs. Among 
these witty gentlemen, let us take a view of Ridentius: 
"\^'hat a contemptible figure does he make with his train 
of paltry admirers ? This wight shall give himself an 
hour's diversion with the cock of a man's hat, the heels 
of his shoes, an unguarded expression in his discourse, 
or even some personal defect ; and the height of his 
jow ambition is to put some one of the company to tke 



256 ESSAYS, 

blush, who perhaps must pay an equal share of the 
reckoiung with himself. If such a fellow makes laugh- 
ing the sole end and purpose of his life, if it is neces- 
sary to his constitution, or if he has a great desire of 
growing suddenly fat, let him eat; let him give public 
notice where any dull stupid rogues may get a quart of 
four penny for being laughed at ; but it is barbarously 
unhandsome, when friends meet for the benefit of con- 
versation, and a proper relaxation from business, that 
one should be the butt of the company, and four men 
made merry at the cost of the fifth. 

How different froni this character is that of the good*v 
natured, gay Eugenius ? who never spoke yet, but with 
a design to divert and please; and who was never yet 
baulked in his intention. Eugenius takes more delight 
in applying the wit of his friends, than in being admired 
himself; and if any one of the company is so unfortu^ 
nate as to be touched a little too nearly, he will make 
use of some ingenious artifice to turn the edge of ridi* 
cule emother way, chusing rather to make himself a^ 
public jest, than be at the pain of seeing his friend ia 
confusion. 

Among the tribe of laughers I reckon the pretty, 
gentlemen, that v> rite satyrs^ and tarry them about in 
their pockets, reading them themselves in all compa- 
ny they happen into; taking an advantage of the ill 
taste of the town, to make themselves famous for a 
pack of paltry, low nonsense, for which they deserve 
to be kicked rather than admired, by all who' have the 
least thvcture of politeness. These I take to be the 
most incorrigible of all my readers ; nay, I expect they 
will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself. — Howevei^ 
the only favour he begs of them*s this, that if they can- 
/^not control their overbearing itch of scribbling, let 
iiim be attacked in down right biting lyricks ; for there 
is no satyr he dreads half so much, as an attempt to^ 
wards-a panegyrick. 



ESSAYS, ^ 



THE BUSY-BODY.— No. III. 



Prom Tuesday J February ll^to Tuesday ^ February IC^y 

1728—9. 

Non vultils instantis Tyranni 

Mente'quatit solida, nee auster. 

Dux inquieti turbidus Adaiae, 

Nee fulminantis magna Jovis manus.— hor. 

. IT is said, that the Persians, in their ancient constf*- 
tution, had public schools, in which virtue was taught 
as a liberal art or science : and it is certainly of more 
consequence to a man, that he has learnt to govern his 
passions, in spite of temptation ; to be just in his deal- 
ings, to be temperate in his pleasures, to support him- 
self with fortitude under his misfortunes, to behave with 
prudence in all his affairs, and even in every circum- 
stance of life ; I say, it is of much more real advantage 
to him to be thus qualified, than to be a master of all 
the arts and sciences in the world beside. 

Virtue alone is sufficient to make a man great, glo- 
rious, and happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, as 
I am, connot help thinking as I do now, and will ac- 
knowledge he deserves the name, without being hon- 
oured by it. Cato is a man whom fortune has placed 
in the m.ost obscure part of the country. His circurti* 
stances, are such, as only put him above necessity, with-^ 
out affording him many superfluities : yet who is great- 
er than Cato ? I happened but the other day to be at a 
house in town, where, among others, were met? men ot 
the most note in this place ; Cato had business with 
some of them, and knocked at the door. The most 
trifling actions of a man, in my opinion, as well as the 
smallest features and lineaments of the face, give a nice 
observer some notion of his mind. Methought he rap- 
ped in such a peculiar manner, as seemed of itself to- 
express there was one who deserved as well as desired 
admission. He appeared in the plainest country garb^ 

W 2 



his great coat was coarse, and loo]s.ed old and thread- 
bare ; his linen was homespun ; his beard, perhaps, 
of seven days growth ; his shoes thick and heavy ; and 
every part of his dress corresponding. Why was this 
man received with such concurring respect from every 
person in the room, even from those who had never 
known him or seen him before ? It was not an exqui- 
site form of person or grandeur of dress, that struck 
\is with admiration. 1 believe long habits of virtue 
have a sensible effect on the countenance : there was 
something in the air of his face, that manifested the true 
greatness of his mind ; which likewise appeared in all 
he said, and in every part of his behaviour, obliging us 
to regard him with a kind of veneration. His aspect is 
sweetened with humanity and benevolence, and at the 
same time emboldened with resolution, equally free 
from diffident bashfulness and an unbecoming assur- 
ance. The consciousness of his own innate worth and 
unshaken integrity, renders him calm and undaunted in 
the presence of the most great and powerful, and up- 
on the most extraordinary occasions. His strict justice 
and known impartiality make him the arbitrator and de- 
cider of all differences, that arise for many miles around 
him, without putting his neighbours to the charge, per- 
plexity, and uncertainty of law- suits. He always speaks 
the thing he means, which he is never afraid or asham- 
ed to do, because he knows he always means well ; and 
therefore is never obliged to blush, and feel the confu- 
sion of finding himself detected in the meanness of a 
falshood. He never contrives ill against his neighbour, 
and therefore is never seen with a lowring suspicious 
aspect. A mixture of mnocence and wisdom makes him 
ever seriously cheerful. His generous hospitality to 
strangers, according- to his ability, his goodness, his 
charity, his courage in the cause of the oppressed, his 
fidelity in friendship, his humility, his honesty and sin- 
cerity, his moderation and his loyalty to the govern- 
ment, his piety, his temperance, his love to mankind, 
his magnanimity, his public spiritedncss, and in finei> 



ESSAYS, 259 

his consummate virtue, make him justly'deserve to be 
esteemed the glory of his country. 

The brave do never sun the light, 

Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers ^ 

Freely without disg-uise they love and hate ; 

Still are they found in the fair face of day. 

And heaven and men are judges of their actions.— row El 

Who would not rather choose, if it were in hischoice^ 
to merit the above character, than be the richest, the 
most learned, or the most powerful man in the province 
without it ? 

Almost every man has a strong natural desire of bet- 
ing valued and esteemed by the rest of his species ; but 
I am concerned and grieved to see how few fall into 
the right and only infallible method of becoming so — « 
That laudable ambition is too commonly misapplied, 
and often ill employed. Some, to make themselves 
considerable, pursue learning; others grasp at wealth ; 
some aim at being thought witty ; and others are only 
(Careful to make the most of an handsome person : but 
what is wit, or wealth, or form, or learning, when com* 
pared with virtue ? Is is true, we love the handsome j 
we applaud the learned, and we fear the rich and pow- 
erful ; but we even worship and adore the virtuous m 

Nor is it strange ; since men of virtue are so rare, sa 
very rare to be found. If we were as industrious lO 
become good, as to make ourselves great, we should 
become really great by being good, and the number of 
valuable men would be much increased ; but it is a 
grand mistake to think of being great without good- 
ness ; and I pronounce it as certain, that there was ne- 
ver yet a truly great man, that was not at the same time 
truly virtuous. 

O Crelico I thou sour philosopher ! thou cunning 
statesman ! thou art crafty, but far from being wise.— 
When >vilt thou be esteemed, regarded, and beloved 
like Cato ? When wilt thou, among thy creatures, meet 
with that unfeigned respect and warm good-will th^ 



i^GO ESSAYS% 

all men have for him ? Wilt thou never understancf, 
that the cringing, mean, submissive deportment of thy 
dependants, is (like the worship paid by Indians to the 
devil) rather through fear of the harm thou mayst do 
them, than out of gratitude for the favours they have 
received of thee ? Thou art not wholly void of virtue ; 
there are many good things in thee, and many good ac- 
tions reported of thee. Be advised by thy friend: ne- 
glect those musty authors ; let them be covered with 
dust, and moulder on their proper shelves ; and do thou 
apply thyself to a study much more profitable, the 
knowledge of mankind and of thyself. 

This is to give notice, that the Busy-Body strictly 
forbids all persons, from this time forward, of what age^ 
sex, rank, quality, degree, or denomination soever, on 
any pretence, to inquire who is the author of this pa- 
per, on pain of his displeasure, (his own near and dear 
relations only excepted.) 

It is to be observed, that if any bad characters hap- 
pen to be drawn in the course of these papers, they 
mean no particular person, if they are not particularly 
applied. 

Likewise, that the author is no party-man, but a ge-* 
Reral meddler. 

N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring provincet 



THE BUSY-BODY.— No. IV. 

Trom Tuesday^ February 1 8, to Ttce^^ay^ February 25^ 

1728.— 9. 

Nequld nimis. 

IN my first paper, I invited the learned and the in- 
genious to join with me in this undertaking ; and I now 
repeat that invitation. I would have such gentlemen 
take this opportunity (by trying their talent in writing}^ 
^ diverting themselves and friends, ajid improving tba 



ESSAYS. 261 

taste of the town. And because I would encourage all wit 
of our own growth and produce, I hereby promise, that 
whoever shall send me a little essay on some moral or 
other subject, that is fit for public view in this manner, 
(and not basely borrowed from any otlier author) I shall 
receive it with candour, and take care to place it to the 
best advantage. It will be hard, if we cannot muster 
up in the whole country a sufficient stock of sense to 
supply the Busy-Body at least for a twelve month.-— 
For my own part, I have already professed, that I have 
the good of my country wholly at heart in this design, 
without the least sinister view ; my chief purpose being 
to inculcate the noble principles of virtue, and depreci- 
ate vice of every kind. But as I know the mob hate 
instruction, and the generality would never read be* 
yond the first line of my lectures, if they were actually 
filled with nothing but wholesome precepts and advice, 
I must therefore sometimes humour them in their own 
way. There are a set of great names in the province, 
who are the common objects of popular dislike. If I 
can now and then overcome my reluctance, and prevail 
with myself to satarize a little, one of these gentlemen, 
the expectation of meeting with such a gratification will 
induce many to read me through, who would other- 
wise proceed immediately to the foreign news. As I 
am very well assured the greatest men among us have 
a sincere love for their country, notwithstanding its in»- 
gratitude, and the insinuations of the envious and mali- 
cious to the contrary, so 1 doubt not but they will cheer^ 
fully tolerate me in the liberty 1 design to take for the 
end above mentioned. 

As yet I have but few correspondents, though they 
begin now to increase. The following letter, left for 
me at the printer's is one of the first I have received, 
which I regard the more for that it comes from one of 
the fair sex, and because I have myself oftentimes suf- 
tered under the grievance therein complained o£ 



252 ESSAYS 

TO THE BUSY-BODV; 

You having set yonrself up for a censuror moruitf 
(as I thiiik you call it) which is said to mean a reformer 
of manners, I know no person more proper to be ap* 
plied for redress in all the grievances we suffer from 
want of manners in some people. You must know, I 
am a single woman, and keep a shop in this town for 
a livelihood. There is a certain neighbour of mine 
who is really agreeable company enough, and with 
whom I have had an intimacy of some time standing | 
but of late she makes her visits so exceedingly often^ 
and stays so very long every visit, that I am tired out 
of all patience. I have no manner of time at all to my- 
self ; and you, who seem to be a wise man, must needs 
be sensible, that every person has little secrets and 
privacies, that are not proper to be exposed even to 
the nearest friend. Now I cannot do the least thing in 
the world, but she must know about it ; and it is a 
wonder I have found an opportunity to write you this 
letter. My misfortune is, that I respect her very well, 
and know not how to disoblige her so much as to tell 
her, I should be glad to have less of her compary ; for 
if I should once hint such a thing, 1 am afraid she would 
resent it so as never to darken my door again. — But 
iilas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my affliction, Siie 
has two children that are just big enough to run about 
and do pretty mischief: these are continually along 
with mamma, either in ray room or shop, if I have ever 
so many customers or people with me about business. 
Sometimes they pull the gooda off my low shelves, 
down to the ground, and perhaps where one of them 
has just been making water. My friend takes up the 
stuff, and cries, <' O i thou little wicked mischievous 
rogue ? But howover, it has done no great damage ; 
it is only wet a little, and so puts it up upon the sheli 
again. Sometimes they get to my cask of nails behind 
the counter, and divert thems^lyes; to my great ve^- 



ESSAYS. .Z^J 

tk)n, with mixing my ten-penny and eight-penny and 
four-penny together. I endeavoured to conceal my 
Uneasiness as much as possible, and with a grave look 
go to sorting them out. She cries, " Dont thee trouble 
thyself, neighbour. Let them play a little ; I'll put all 
to rights before I go." But things are never so put to 
rights but that I find a great deal of work to do after 
they are gone. Thus, Sir, I have all the trouble and 
pesterment of children, without the pleasure of calling 
them my own ; and they are now so used to being here 
that they will be content no where else. If she would 
have been so kind as to have moderated her visits to ten 
times a day, and staid but half an hour at a time, I 
should have been contented, and I believe never have 
given you this trouble. But this very morning they 
have so tormented me that I could bear no longer ; for 
while the mother was asking me twenty impertinent 
questions, the youngest got to my nails, and with great 
delight rattled them by handsful all over the floor ; and 
the other at the same time made such a terrible din 
upon my counter with a hammer, that I grew half dis- 
tracted. I was just then about to make myself a new 
^it of pinnersj but in the fret and confusion I cut it 
quite out of ail manner of shape, and utterly spoiled a 
piece of the jBrst muslin. Pray, Sir, tell me what I 
shall do. Aad talk a little against such unreasonable 
visiting in your next paper ; though I would not have 
her aif routed with me for a great deal, for sincerely I 
love her and her children, as well, I think, as a neigh- 
bour cai^, ^nd she buys a great many things in a year at 
my shop. But I would beg her to consider, that she 
uses me unmercifully, though I believe it is only for 
vant of thought. But I have twenty things more to tell 
you besides all this : there is a handsome gentleman 
that has a mind (I dont question) to make love to me ; 
but he can't get the opportunity to— — O dear, here she 
Cutties again j I must conclude. 

*^ Your% &c, 

*t patience;*' 



264 ESSAYS!, 

Indeed, it is well enough, as it happens, that she is 
come to shorten this complaint, which I think is full 
long enough already, and probably would otherwise 
have been as long again. However, I must confesjj, I 
cannot help pitying my correspondent's case, and in 
. her behalf, exhort the visitor to remember and consid- 
er the words of the wise man. Withdraw thy foot from 
the house of thy neighbour, lest he grow weary of thee 
and so hate thee. It is, I believe, a nice thing and veiy 
difficult, to regulate our visits in such a manner, as ne- 
ver to give offence, by coming too seldom, or too often, 
OY departing too abruptly, or staying too long. How- 
ever, in my opinion, it is safest for most people, in a 
general way, who are unwilling to disoblige, to visit 
seldom, and tarry but a little while in a place ; notwith- 
istanding pressing invitations, which are many times in- 
sincere. And though more of your company should 
be really desired ; yet in this case, too much reserved- 
ness is a fault more easily excused than the contrary. 

Men are subject to various inconveniencies merely 
through lack of a small share of courage, which is a 
quality very necessary in the common occurrences of 
life, as well as in a battle. How many impertinencies« 
do we daily suffer with great uneasiness, because we 
have not courage enough to discover our dislike ? And 
why may not a man use the boldness and freedom of 
telling his friends, that their long visits sometimes in- 
commode him ? On this occasion, it may be entertain- 
ing to some of my readers, if I acquaint them with the 
Turkish manner of entertaining visitors, which I have 
from an author of unquestionable veracity : who as- 
sures us, that even the Turks are not so ignorant of ci- 
vility and the arts of endearment, but that they can prac- 
tise them with as much exactness as any other nation, 
whenever they have a mind to show themselves oblig- 
ing. 

" When you visit a person of quality (says he) and 
having talked over your business, or the compliments, 
or whatever concern brought you thither, he makes a 



ESSAYS. ^6^ 

sign to have things served in for the entertainmentt 
which is generally a little sweetmeat, a dish of sherbet, 
and another of coffee ; all which are immediately 
brought in by the servants, and tendered to all the 
guests in order, with the greatest care and awfulness 
imaginable. At last comes the finishing part of your 
entertainment, ^vhich is perfuming the beards of the 
company ; a ceremony which is performed in this man* 
ner. They have for the purpose a small silver chaffing 
dish, covered with a lid full of holes, and fixed upon a 
handsome plate. In this they put some fresh coals, 
and upon them a piece of lignum aloes, and shutting it 
up, the smoke immediately ascends with a grateful 
odour through the holes of the cover. This smoke is 
held under every one's chin, and offered as it were a 
sacrifice to his beard. The bristly idol soon receives 
the reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in and 
incorporates the gummy steam, that it retains the sa- 
vour of it, and may serve for a nosegay a good while 
after. 

" This ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at 
first hearing ; but it passes among the Turks for an 
high gratification. And I will say this in its vindica- 
tion, that its design is very wise and useful. For it is un- 
derstood to give a dismission to the civil visitants, inti- 
mating to them, that the master of the house has busi- 
cess to do, or some other avocation, that permits them 
to go away as soon as they please ; and the sooner after 
this ceremony the better. By this means you may, at 
any time, without offence, deliver yourself from being- 
detained from your affairs by tedious and unseasonable 
visits; and from being constrained to use that piece of 
hypocrisy, so common in the world, of pressing those 
to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in your heart 
you wish a great way off, for having troubled you so 
long already." 

Thus far my author. For my own part, I have taken 
such a fancy to this Turkish custom, that for the future 
I shall put something like it in practice. I have pro- 

X 



266 ESSAYS. 

vided a bottle of right French brandy for the men, and 
citron water for the ladies. After I have treated with 
a dram, and presented a pinch of my be;it snufF, I ex- 
pect all company will retire, and leave me to pursue 
my studies for the good of the public. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

1 give notice that I am now actually compiling, and 
design to publish in a short time, the true history of 
the rise, growth and progress of the renowned Tiff 
Club. All persons who are acquainted with any facts, 
circumstances, characters, transactions, &c which will 
be requisite to the perfecting and embellishment of the 
said work, are desired to communicate the same to the 
author, and direct their letters to be left with the print- 
er hereof. 

The letter signed Would-be-something is come to 
hand. 



THE busy-body.- No. V. 

JFrom Tuesday^ February 25, to T'uesdayy March 4, 

1728—9. 

Vos, o patricius sanguis, quos vivere fas est, 
Occipiti coeco, posticx occurite sannae.-— persius. 

THIS paper being designed for a terror to evil do* 
ers, as well as a praise to them that do well, I am lifted 
up with secret joy to find, that my undertaking is ap- 
proved, and encouraged by the just and good, and that 
few are against me but those who have reason to fear 
ine. 

There are little follies in the behaviour of most men, 
which their best friends are too tender to acquaint them 
with; there are little vices and small crimes which the 
law has no regard to, or remedy for; there are likewise 
great pieces of villany sometimes so craftily accom- 
plished, and so circumspectly guarded, that the law 
c^n take no hold of the actors. All these things, and all 



ESSAYS. 267 

things of this nature, come within my province as Cen* 
sor, and 1 am determined not to be negligent of the 
trust 1 have reposed in myself, but resolved to execute 
my office diligently and faithluily. 

And that all the world may judge with how much 
humanity, as well as justice, I shall behave in this of- 
fice ; and that even my enemies may be convinced I 
take no deli[^hi lo rake into the dunghill lives of vicious 
men ; and to the end tbat certain persons may be a lit- 
tle eased of their fears, and relieved from the terrible 
palpitations they have LUely felt and suffered, and do 
still suffer, I hereby graciously pass an act of gener- 
al oblivion, for all offences, crimes and misdemean- 
ors, of what kmd boever, committed from the begin- 
ning of the year 1 68 • , until the day of the date of my 
first paper, and promise only to concern myself with 
sucn as have been since and sha'l hereafter be commit- 
ted. 1 shall take no notice who aas (heretofore) rais- 
ed a fortune by fraud and oppressiors, nor who by de- 
ceit and hypocrisy ; what woman has b?en false to her 
good husband's bed, nor what mun nus, by barbarous 
U:iage or neglect, broke the heart of a faithful wife, and 
wasted his health and substance in debauchery; what 
base wretch has betrayed his friend, and sold his hon- 
esty for gold, nor vrhat baser wretch first corrupted 
him, and then bought the bargain : idl this, and much 
more of the same kmd, I shall forget, and pass over in 
silence ; but then it is to be observed, that I expect and 
require a sudden and general amendment. 

These threatenings of mine, I hope will have a good- 
effect, and, if regarded, may prevent abundance of foiiy 
and v/ickedness in others, and at the Siime time, save me 
abundance of trouble; aiid that people may not flat- 
ter themselves with the hope ot concealing their loose 
misdemeanors from my knowledge, and in that view 
persist in evil doing, I must acquaint them, that I have 
lately entered into an intimacy with the extraordinar}'; 
person, who some time since wrote me tlie following 
letter ; ami who, having a wonderful facultyj that ena- 



26S ESSAYS. 

'Mes him to discover the most secret iniquity, is capa- 
ble of giving me great assistance in my designed work 
©f reformation. 

•i* Mr. Busy 'Body, 

" I REJOICE, Sir, at the opportunity you have giv 
en me to be serviceable to you, and, by your means, to 
this province. You must know, that such have been 
the circumstances of my life, and such were the mar- 
vellous occurrences of my birth, that I have not only 
a faculty of discovering the actions of persons, that are 
absent or asleep, but even of the devil himself, in ma- 
ny of his secret workings, in the various shapes, hab- 
its and names of men and women ; and having travel- 
led and conversed much, and met but with a very few 
of the same perceptions and qualifications, I can re* 
commend myself to you as the most useful man you 
can correspond with. My father's father's father (for 
we had no grandfathers in our family) was the same 
John Bunyan that writ that memorable book. The Pil- 
grim's Progress, who had, in some degree a natural fa- 
culty of second sight. This faculty (how derived to 
him our family memoirs are not very clear) was enjoy- 
ed by all his descendants, but not by equal talents. It 
was very dim in several of my first cousins, and proba- 
bly had been nearly extinct in our particular branch, 
had not my father been a traveller. He lived, in his 
youthful days in New-England. There he married, 
and there was born my elder brother, who had so much 
of this faculty, as to discover witches in some of their 
occult performances. My parents transporting them- 
selves to Great Britain, my second brother's birth was 
in that kingdom. He shared but a small portion of 
this virtue, being onlv able to discern transactions about 
the time of, and for the most part after their happening. 
My good father, who delighted in the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress, and mountanous places, took shipping with his 
wife, for Scotland, and inhabited in the Highlands, 
whqre myself was borni and whether the soil, climate^ 



ESSAYS. 269 

or astral influences, of which are preserved divers 
prognosticks, restored our ancestor's natural faculty of 
second sight, in a greater lustre to me, than it had 
shined in through several generations, 1 will not here 
discuss. But so it is, that I am possessed largely of it, 
and design, if you encourage the proposal, to take this 
opportunity of doing good with it, which I question not, 
will be accepted of in a grateful way by many of your 
honest readers, though the discovery of my extraction 
bodes me no deference from your great scholars and mo- 
dern philosophers. This my father was long ago aware 
of, and lest the name alone should hurt the fortunes of 
his children, he, in his shiftings from one country to 
another, wisely changed it. 

' " Sir I have only this further to say, how I may be 
useful to you, and as a reason for my not making my- 
self more known in the world : by virtue of this great 
gift of nature, second sightedness, I do continually see 
numbers of men, women, and children, of all ranks, and 
what they are doing, while I am sitting in my closet f 
which is too great a burthen for the mind, and makes 
me also conceit, even against reason, that all this host 
of people can see and observe me, which strongly in- 
clines me to solitude, and an obscure living ; and on 
the other hand, it will be an ease to me to disburthen 
my thoughts and observations in the way proposed to 
you, by Sir, your friend and humble servant." 

I conceal this correspondent's name, in my care for 
his life and safety, and cannot but approve his pru- 
dence, in chusing to live obscurely. I remember the 
fate of my poor monkey : he had an ill natured trick 
of grinning and chattering at every thing he SiiW in pet- 
ticoats : my ignorant country neighbours got a notion, 
thai pug snarled by instinct at every female who nad 
lost her virginity. This was no sooner generally be- 
lieved, than he was condemned to death ; by whom I 
could never learn, but he was ctssrssinated in the nighty 
barbarously stabbed and mangled in a thousand plac^ 

X 2 




T/0 ESSAYS, 

and left hanging* dead on one on my gate posts, wliere 
Wound him the next morning. 

The Censor observing, that the itch of scribbling be- 
-§ins to spread exceedingiy, and being carefully tender 
of the reputation of his country, in point of wit and 
good sense, has determined to take all manner of wri- 
ting in verse or prose, that pretended to either, under 
his immediate cognizance ; and accordingly, hereby 
prohibits the publishing any such for the future, till 
they have first passed his examination, and received 
his imprimatur : for which he demands as a fee only 
six pence per sheet. 

N. B. He nevertheless permits to be published, all 
satirical remarks on the Busy-Body, the above prohi- 
bition notwithstanding, and without examination, or re- 
quiring the said fees; which indulgence the small wits, 
m and about this city, are advised gratefully to accept 
nnd acknowledge. 

The gentleman who calls himself Sirronio, is direct- 
ed, on receipt of this, to burn his great book of Crudi- 
ties. 

P. S. In compassion to that young man, on account 
of the great pains he has taken, in consideration of the 
i:haracter I have just received of him, that he is really 
jcood-ilatured, and on condition he shows it to no fo- 
reigner, or stranger of sense, I have thought fit to re- 
prieve his said great book of Crudities from the flamesi- 
Till further order. 



/l^oli me tangere. 

I had resolved, when I first commenced this design^ 
on no account to enter into a public dispute with any 
man ; for I judged it would be equally unpleasant to 
me and my readers, to see this paper filled with con- 
tentious wrangling, answers, replies. Sec. which is' a 
way of writing that is endless, and at the same time 
Seldom contains any thing that is either edifying or en- 



ESSAYS. , 2n 

tertaining. Yet when such a considerable man as Mr. 

finds himself concerned so warmly to accuse and 

condemn me, as he has done m Keimer's last Instruc- 
tor, I cannot forbear endeavouring to say someting in 
my own defence, from one of the worst of characters 
that could be given me by a man of worth. But as I 
have many things of more consequence to offer the pub* 
lie, I declare, that I will never, after this time, take 
notice of any accusations, not better supported with 
truth and reason ; much less may every little scribbler, 
that shall attack me, expect an answer from the Busf- 
Body. 

The sum of the charge delivered against me, either 
directly or indirectly, in the said paper, is this : not to 
mention the first weighty sentence concerning vanity 
and ill-nature, and the shrewd intimation, that I am 
without charity, and therefore can have no pretence to 
religion, I am represented as guilty of defamation and 
scandal, the odiousness of which is apparent to every 
good man, and the practice of it opposite to Christiani- 
ty, morality, and common justice, and, in some cases, 
so far below all these, as to be inhuman ; a blaster of 
reputations ; as attempting by a pretence, ta screen 
myself from the imputation of malice and prejudice ; 
as using a weapon, which the wiser and better part of 
mankind hold in abhorrence s and as giving treatment 
which the v/iser and better part of mankind dislike on 
the same principles, and for the same reason as they 
do assassination, Sec. and all this is inferred and conclud- 
ed from a character I have wrote in my Number III. 

In order to examine the truth and justice of this 
heavy charge, let us recur to that character. And here 
we may be surprised to find what a trifle has raised 
this mighty clamour and complaint, this grievous ac^ 
cusation 1 — The worst thing said of the person, in what 
is called my gross description (be he who he will to 
whom my accuser has applied the character of Creticb) 
is, that he is a sour philosopher, crafty, but not wise.— 
Few human characters can be drawn that will not fit 



^r2 ESSAYS. 

some body, in so large a country as this ; but one would 
think, supposing I meant Cretico a real person, 1 had 
sufficiently manifested my impartiality, when I said, in 
that very paragraph, that Cretico is not without virtue ;, 
that there are many good things in him, and many good 
actions reported of him ; which must be allowed in all 
reason, very much to overbalance in his favour those 
worst words, sour tempered, and cunning. Nay, my 
very enemy and accuser must have been sensible of 
this, when he freely acknowledges, that he has been 
seriously considering, and cannot yet determine, which 
he would choose to be, the Cato or Cretico of that 
paper; since my Cato is one of the best of characters. 
Thus much in my own vindication. As the only 
reasons there given, why I ought not to continue 
drawing characters, viz. Why siiould any man's pic- 
ture be published which he never sat for ; or his good 
name taken from him any more than his money or pos- 
sessions, at the arbitrary will of another, &c. I have 
but this to answer ; the money or possessions, I presume, 
are nothing, to the purpose ; since no man can claim a 
right either to those or a good name, if he has acted so 
as to forfeit them. And are not the public the only 
judges what share of reputation they think proper to 
allow any man I Supposing I was capable, and had an 
inclination, to draw all the good and bad characters in 
America why should a good man be offended with me 
for drawing good characters ? And if I draw ill ones, 
can they fit any one but those that deserve them ? And 
ought any but such to be concerned that they have their 
deserts ? I have as great an aversion and abhorrence for 
defamation and scandal as any man, and would, with the 
utmost care, avoid being guilty of such base things t 
besides I am very sensible and certain, that if I should 
make use of this paper to defame any person, my repu- 
tation would be sooner hurt by it than his ; and the 
Busy-Body would quickly become detestable; because, 
in such a case, as is justly observed, th"; pleasure aris- 
ing from a tale of wit and novelty soon dies away iii 



ESSAYS. 273 

generous and honest minds, and is followed with a se* 
cret grief, to see their neighbours calumniated. But 
if I myself was actually the worst 'man in the province, 
and any one should draw my real character, would it 
not be ridiculous in me to say, he had defamed and 
scandalized me, unless he had added in a matter of truth ? 
If any thing is meant by asking, why any man's picture 
should be published which he never sat for ? it must 
be, that we should give no character without the own» 
er's consent. If I discern the wolf disguised in harm- 
less wool, and contriving the destruction of my neigh- 
bour's sheep, must I have his permission, before I ara 
allowed to discover and prevent him ? If I know a man 
to be a designing knave, must I ask his consent, to bid 
my friends beware of him ? If so, then, by the same 
rule, supposing the Busy-Body had really merited all 
his enemy had charged him with, his consent likewise 
ought to have been obtained, before so terrible aiv accu- 
sation was published against him. 

I shall conclude with observing, that in the last para- 
graph save one of the piece now examined, much ilU 
nature and some good sense are co-inhabitants (as he 
expresses it.) The ill -nature appears in his endeav- 
jcuring to discover satire, where I intended no such 
thing, but quite the reverse ; the good sense is this, 
that drawing too good a character of any one is a refin- 
ed manner of satire, that may be as injurious to him dS 
the contrary, by bringing on an examination that un- 
dresses the person, and in the haste of doing it, he may 
happen to be stript of what he really ov/ns and deserves. 
As I am Censor, I might punish the first, but I forgive 
it. Yet I will not leave the latter unrewarded ; but as- 
sure my adversary, that in consideration of the merit 
ef those four lines, I am resolved to forbear injuring 
him on any account in that refined manner. 

I thank my neighbour P W 1 for hid* 

kind letter. 

The lions complained of shall be mu2>zled. 



2f4. ESSAYS. 



THE BUSY-BODY —No. VI. 

From Tuesday^ March 20, to' Tuesday ^ March %7^ 

1729. 

Quid non mortalia pectora cogfis, 
Aun sacra fames ?— — viuoil. 

^ ONE of the greatest pleasures an author can have, 
is> certainly, the hearing his works applauded. The 
hiding from the -world our names, while we publish 
our thoughts, is so absolutely necessary to this self-gra- 
tification, that I hope my well-wishers will congratulate 
me on my escape from the many diligent, but fruitless 
enquiries, that have of late been made tifter me. Eve- 
ry man will own^ that an author, as such, ought to be 
hid by the merit of his productions only ; but pride, 
party, and prejudice, at this time, runs so very high, 
that experience shows we form our notions of a piece 
by the character of the author. Nay, there are some 
very humble politicians in and about this city, who will 
ask, on which side the writer is, before they presume 
to give their opinion of the thing wrote. This ungen- 
erous way ot proceediiig I was well aware of before I 
published my first speculation ; and therefore conceal- 
ed my name. And i appeal to the more generous part 
©f the world, if I have, since I appeared in the charac* 
ter of the Busy-Body, given an instance of my siding 
•with any party more than another, in the unhappy di- 
visions of my country ; and I have above all, this satis- 
fctction in myself, that neither affection, aversion, or in- 
terest, have biassed me to use any partiality towards 
any man, or set of men ; but whatsoever I find nonsen- 
sical, ridiculous, or immorally dishonest, I have, and 
shall continue openly to attack, with the freedom of an 
honest man, and a lover of my country. 

I profess 1 can hardly contain myself, or preserve 
the gnv'ity and dignity that should attend the censorial 
frffice, wnen 1 hear the odd and unacountable exposi- 



ESSAYS. . ^^^ 

tions, that are put upon some of my works, through 
the malicious ignorance of some, and the vain pride of 
more than ordinary penetration in others j one instance 
of which many of my readers are acquainted with. A 
certain gentleman has taken a great deal of pains to 
write a key to the letter in my Number IV, wherein 
he has ingeniously converted a gentle satire upon te- 
dious and impertinent visitants, into a libel on some of 
the government. This I mention only as a specimen 
of the taste of the gentleman ; I am forsooth, bound to 
please in my speculations, not that I suppose* my im- 
partiality will ever be called in question on that account. 
Injustices of this nature I could complain of in many 
instances ; but I am at present diverted by the recep- 
tiop of a letter, which thomjh it ret^ards me only in my 
private capacity, as an adept, yet I venture to publish 
it for the entertainment of my readers : 

-" To Censor Morum^ Esq. Busy-Body General of the 
Province of Pennsylvania^ and the Counties of J^evj^ 
castle^ Kent^ and Sussex uj[ion Delaware. 

" Honourable Sir, 

« I JUDGE by your lucubrations, that yoii are not on- 
ly a lover of truth and equity, but a man of parts and 
learning, and a master of science ; as such I honour 
you. Know then, most profound sir, that I have, from 
my youth up, been a very indefatigable student in, and 
admirer of, that divine science, astrology. I have read 
over Scott, Albertus Magnus, and Cornelius Agrippa, 
above three hundred times ; and was in hopes,'by my 
knowledge and industry, to gain enough to have recom- 
pensed me for my m.oney expended, and time lost in 
the pursuit of this learning. You cannot be ignorant, 
sir, (for your intimate second-sighted correspondent 
knows all things) that there are large sums of money 
hidden under ground in divers places about this town, 
and in many parts of the country : but alas, sir, notwith- 
standing i have used all the means laid down in the 



276 ESSAYS, 

immortal authors before mentioned, and when they 
failed the ingenious Mr. P. — d — 1, with his mercurial 
wand and magnet, I have still failed in my purpose. 
This, therefore, I send to propose and desire an ac- 
quaintance with you, and I do not doubt, notwithstand- 
ing my repeated ill fortune, but we may be exceeding- 
ly serviceable to each other in our discoveries ; and 
that if we use our united endeavours, the time will 
come, when the Busy-Body, his second-sighted cor- 
respondent, and your very humble servant, will be three 
of the richest men in the province : and then, sir, what 
may we not do ? A word to the wise is sufficient. 
I conclude with all demonstrable respect. 

Yours and Urania's Votary, 
TITAN PELIADS. 

In the evening after I had received this letter, I 
made a visit to my second-sighted friend, and commu- 
nicated to him the proposal. When he had read it, he 
assured me, that to his certain knowledge, there is not 
at this time so much as one ounce of silver or gold hid 
under ground in any part of this province ; for that the 
late and present scarcity of money had obliged those, 
who were living and knew where they had formerly hid 
any, to take it up and use it in their own necessary af- 
fairs : and as to all the rest, which was buried by pi- 
rates and others in old times, who were never like to 
come for it, he himself had long since dug it all up, and 
applied it to charitable uses ; and this he desired me 
to publish for the general good. For, as he acquaint- 
ed me, there are among us great numbers of honest 
artificers and labouring people, who, fed with a vain 
hope of growing suddenly rich, neglect their business, 
almost to the ruining of themselves and families, and 
voluntarily endure abundance of fatigue in a fruitless 
search after imaginary hidden treasure. They wander 
through the woods and bushes by day, to discover the 
marks and signs ; at midnight they repair to the hope- 
ful spots with spades and pickaxes ; full of expectationf 



ESSAYS. , " 277 

they labour violently, trembling at the same time in 
every joint, through fear of certain malicious demons, 
who are said to haunt and guard such places. At length 
a mighty hole is dug, and perhaps several cart-loads, of 
earth throvvn out ; but alas, no cag or iron pot is found I 
no seaman's chest cramed with Spanish pistoles, or 
weighty pieces of eight 1 Then they conclude, that 
through some mistake in the procedure, some rash 
word spoke, or some rule of art neglected, the guar- 
dian spirit had power to sink it deeper into the earth, 
and convey it out of their reach. Yet, when a man is 
once thus infatuated, he is so far from being discourag- 
ed by ill success, that he is rather animated to double 
his industry, and will try again and again in a hun- 
dred different places, in hopes at last of meeting with 
some lucky hit, that shall at once sufficiently reward 
him for all his expence of time and labour. 

This odd humour of digging for money through a 
belief, that much has been hid by pirates formerly fre- 
quenting the river, has for several years been mighty 
prevalent among us ; insomuch that you can hardly 
walk half a mile out of the town on any side, without 
observing several pits dug with that design, and per- 
haps some lately opened. Men, otherwise of very 
good sense, have been drawn into this practice, through 
an overv/eening desire of sudden wealth, and an easy 
credulity of what they so earnestly wished might be 
true. While the rational and almost certain methods 
of acquiring riches by industry and frugality are neg^ 
lected or forgotten. There seems to be some peculiar 
charm in the conceit of finding money ; and if the sands 
of Schuyikil were so muph mixed with small grains of 
gold, that a man might in a day's time with care and 
application, get together to the value of half a crown, 
I make no question but we should find several people 
employed there, that can with ease earn five shillings 
a day at their proper trades. 

Many are the idle stories told of the private success 
trf some people, by which others ^re encouraged to 

Y 



2tS ESSAYS. 

proceed ; and the astrologers, with whom the country 
swarms at this time, are either in the belief of these 
things themselves, or find their advantage in persuad- 
ing others to believe them ; for they are often consult- 
ed about the critical times for digging, the methods of 
laying the spirit, and the like whimsies, which renders 
them very necessary to, and very much caressed by, 
the poor deluded money-hunters. 

There is certainly something very bewitching in the 
pursuit after mines of gold and silver and other valua- 
ble metals, and many have been ruined by it. A sea- 
captuin of my acquaintance used to blame the English 
for envying Spain their mines of silver, and too much 
despising or overlooking the advantages of their own 
industry and manufactures. For my part, says he, I 
esteem the banks of Newfoundland to be a more valua- 
ble possession than the mountains of Postosi ; and when 
I have been there on the fishing account, have looked 
at every cod pulled up into the vessel as a certain quan- 
tity of silver ore, which required only carrying to the 
next Spanish port to be coined Tnto pieces of eight;* 
not to mention the national profit of fitting out and em- 
ploying such a number of ships and seamen. Let ho- 
nest Peter Buckram, who has long without success, 
been a searcher after hidden money, reflect on this, and 
be reclaimed from that unaccountable folly. Let him 
consider, that every stitch he takes when he is on the 
shop board is picking up part of a grain of gold, that 
will in a few days time amount to a pistole ; and let Faber 
think the same of every nail he drives, or every stroke 
with his plane. Such thoughts may make them indus- 
trious, and of consequence in time they may be weal- 
thy. But how absurd it is to neglect a certain profit 
for such a ridiculous whimsey : to spend whole days 
at the George, in company with an idle pretender to 
astrology, contriving schemes to discover what was ne- 
ver hidden, and forgetful how carelessly business is ma- 
naged at home in their absence ; to leave their wives, 
^nd a warm bed ^t midnight (no matter if it rain hail. 



ESSAYS. 279 

snow, or blow a hurricane, provided that be the critical 
hour) and fatigue themselves with the violent exercise 
of digging for what they shall never find, and perhaps 
getting a cold that may cost their lives, or at least dis- 
ordering themselves so as to be fit for no business be- 
side for some days after. Surely this is nothing less 
than the most egregious folly and madness. 

I shall conclude with the words of my discreet friend, 
Agricola, of Chester County, when he gave his son a 
good plantation : — « My son,*' says he, « I give thee 
now a valuable parcel of land ; I assure thee I have 
found a considerable quantity of gold by digging there ; 
thee mayst do the same : but thee must carefully ob-^ 
serve this; Never to dig jnore than plough-deep." 



fINiS. 



eONTENT& 



f 



4 
87 

134 
14:: 
14:V 
14€' 



LIFE of Dr. Franklin, as written by himself 
ContinuatJoii of his Life, by Dr. Stuber 
Extracts from his Will .... 

On Early Marriages < . . . . 

On the Death of his Brother, Mr. John Franklin 
To the late Dr. Mather of Boston 
The Whistle^ a true Story ; written to his Nephew 14B 
A petition of the Left Hand . r . • . 149 
The handsome and Deformed Leg . . . 150 

Conversation of a Company of Ephemerae, with the So- 
liloquy of one advanced in age . ,. .. 153 
Morals of Chess ...... 155 

The Art of procuring pleasant dreams , . 159 

Advice to a young Tradesman . . . 164 

Kecessary Hints to those who would be rich . . 166 
The way to make- Money plenty in every Man's pocket 167 

An crconomical Project Igg^ 

On modern Innovations in the English Language and 

in Printing* . . . . . . . J^g 

An Account of the highest Court of Judicature in 

Pennsylvania, viz. The Court of the Press . Irg> 

Paper: a Poem •...., . 183' 

On the Art of SwifWniJng . . . . . 184 

New Mode of Bathing . . ♦' ^ . . 187" 
Observations on the generally prevailing Doctrines of 

Life and Death ..... . fs^ 

Precautions to be taken by those who are about to un* 

deytake a Sea Voyage - . . ♦* , Hog) 



CONTENTS* 



On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry . , 195 

0n the slave trade 300 

Observations on War . , * . . . . 204 

On the Impress of Seamen 205 

On the Criminal Laws, and the practice of Privateering 209 

Remarks concerning the Savages of North America 216 
To Mr. Dubourg, concerning the disseations between 

iEngland and Anierica ..... 223 

A Comparison of the conduct of the ancient Jews, and 
of the Antifederalists of the United States of 

America ........ 224 

The internal State of America: being a true Descrip- 
tion of the Interest and Policy of that vast Conti- 
nent 228 

Information to those Avho would remove to America 234 
Final Speech of Dr. Franklin in the late Federal Con- 

,. vention . » . 243 

Sketch of an English School . . . , . 245 

3usy-Body, No. I. ..... 252 

No. n. . . . . . . 255 

No. IlL . . . . . .25? 

No. IV. ...... 260 

No. V. ...... 266 

No. VI. ., . , ■ . 274 



I 



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fin Jive vols. J 

In a government like our*s, a general knowledge of 
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